It's All In Print
by Ardeth Saunders
Summary: Hell hath no fury than a federal agent scorned. [Sequel to “Mission: Aggravation,” “Thorn In His Side,” “Back For More,” and “The Long Road.”]
1. I'm Your Biggest Fan

**TITLE****:  "It's All In Print"**

**AUTHOR****:  Ardeth Saunders [a.k.a., Cruecial or Cruecial411]**

**RATING****:  R [Language, violence, and adult content]**

**SUMMARY****:  Hell hath no fury than a federal agent scorned.  [Sequel to "Mission:  Aggravation," "Thorn In His Side," "Back For More," and "The Long Road."]  **

**GENRE****:  Drama, Suspense, Action, and a special breed of Romance [Lustmance]  **

**DISCLAIMER****:  _UC:  Undercover_ and its cast of characters belong to the writers, creators, NBC, and a dozen others.  NO infringement intended.  All other original characters belong solely to the sick, twisted, and vivid imagination of the author.**

***  *  ***

I'M YOUR BIGGEST FAN* 

Donovan sat back and propped his feet up on his desk.  What the hell, it _was _after hours.  Of course, he wouldn't do this with the team present, but since he had the whole building to himself, who was going to see him?  His hand absently caressed the thick evening edition of the newspaper.  He had yet to unfold it.  He was normally quite the voracious reader of the newspaper, but tonight, he had little interest.  How many days was it now?  Fifteen?  Twenty?  _Be honest with yourself, asshole.  It's been thirty.  An entire month has passed.  A month.  Not two days, not three, but thirty damn days_.  Yes, thirty days.  Thirty days and no sign of Pax anywhere.  Since she'd left the note for him, she had made no contact.  He wasn't sure how he felt about that, but here lately, he had taken the 'fuck it' attitude.  If she didn't want to come back, he wouldn't beg her.  She could play her useless mind games all she wanted.  He wanted no part of them.  He wanted no part of her.  _Fuck her_.  He shook his head.  He was fooling himself, he really was.  He could sit here all night and tell himself any lie he wanted to dig up.  However, he knew the score, as did Jonella Paxton.  He wanted her; he'd waited patiently, and was still waiting.  _Goddamn it.  Why is this so damn important to me_?  Sighing, driving the demon out of his mind for the time being, he picked up his paper and cracked it open.  His favorite section, morbidly enough, was the crime news.  He saw a potential case in everything.  He unfolded the paper and began reading the first article he saw.  Within moments, he was engrossed in it.  The writing style struck him as familiar, but he shook it off.  He hadn't glanced at the name of the reporter.  It wasn't important to him, not as important as the story.  However, there was a phrase in it that drew his attention.  He wasn't sure how it had gotten past the censors.  _Well, crap on that._  Crap on that?  He drew his finger back up the article until he noted the byline.  The reporter's name was J.E. Paxton.  _No, it couldn't be.  It couldn't be her._

*  *  *

She sat staring out the window directly behind her.  She had begun to stare out of windows a lot lately.  Her arm rested on top of her desk and she found her fingers rapping repeatedly against the surface.  _Ugh.  _It was a habit most recently taken up by Frank Donovan, and she had no desire to take anything from him again.  However, she loved the man, and she wasn't certain what was going to happen when he found her again.  She shook it off.  For years, Jonella Paxton had enjoyed playing games, but this one had hurt, had hurt more than anything ever did.  She couldn't marry him.  What the hell was he thinking asking her something like that?  He hadn't given one single thought to anything other than the idea of marriage.  It was scary, utterly scary.  She thought of his daughter again, and knew she wasn't ready to go into 'family' mode.  It just wasn't in her.  It had been a month since she last saw Donovan and he had yet to find her.  Of course, she had given him little choice in the matter.  Then again, he could stay away and she would be fine with that.  The games stunk and she was finished with them.  If she ever saw him again [she highly doubted she would], she would tell him so.  They could live in the same city, see each other on the streets, or whatever, but she couldn't marry him.  It was ridiculous.

Pax turned toward the computer on her desk.  She had fired it up an hour ago, but hadn't written a word.  She had about three deadlines to meet, but she didn't give a fuck.  There was too much going through her mind, too much that she had left undone.  For the first time in years, she felt like shit and _cared_.  Sighing, she turned away from the mocking computer and swung back around, lost in thought.  She had to admit that this office was pretty nice and very private.  She was treated like royalty, but felt like scum.  _You never cared, Jonella.  You'll get over it.  I can promise you that_.  She wouldn't get over it, not now, not ever.

A knock at the door sounded off, but she didn't react.  It was probably her frothing at the mouth boss wondering if she had done any writing.  She wouldn't acknowledge.  If the slimy prick wanted to yell at her, he could come in on his own.  The door opened and her guest stepped inside.  She jumped when she heard a loud smacking sound.  Her heart pounding in her chest, she whirled around, facing a very pissed off and hurt Frank Donovan.  He had slapped last night's evening edition onto her desk with her latest feature exposed and highlighted.  _Jesus.  He's pissed._  His lips were drawn in a tight, grim line, and his nostrils flared.  His eyes had gone from chocolate brown to black.  She loved this man, but she had fucked him over again.  Trying to take his anger casually [as was her style], she sat back and gazed up at him.  It was difficult keeping eye contact with him, but she toughed it out.  He was completely too enraged to speak, but when he calmed down, his words would flood out of him and drown her.  

"I'm your biggest fan," he growled through gritted teeth.

She looked up at him for a brief moment and then ripped off a sticky note.   She scrawled something on it and slapped it onto the paper.  "There.  You have my autograph.  You're free to go."

He picked up the paper and tossed it into the wastebasket beside her desk.  "What is the meaning of this?  You leave for a month and then show up, but you shove me aside as if I were nothing more to you than some life-size sex toy?  What's your story, _J.E._," he said, his voice bitter and mocking.  "Since when are you a writer?  Who set this up for you?  Dicky?"

She sighed again and casually crossed her legs.  Damn him.  Damn her.  "I had to have something to do with my life, Frankie.  What did you expect me to do?  You know, you've seen my naked body on numerous occasions; you've touched everything that a man can; you've seen every single flaw, freckle, and hair.  Through all of that, not once did you ask me what I did in college.  Yes, Frankie, Jonella Paxton went to college and she has a journalism degree, and she isn't half bad.  Dicky helped with the job, and the month I was missing, he 'deprogrammed' me so I could have a halfway normal life.  Can you fault me for that?  Can you?"

He stared down at her, so angry that he felt his head might explode.  He was completely too wrapped up in his hurt to listen to her.  She had changed; it was obvious.  She was calmer somehow, less vulgar.  Her style of dress had gone along with that.  Her clothes were business casual and well fitting.  Her wild hair was tamed and clipped back away from her face.  He actually missed the old Pax.  Shaking it off, he said, "What does the 'E' stand for, Jonella?  Evil heartbreaking bitch?"

"No, you ass," she said.  "It doesn't stand for anything.  I just needed a cool initial to go with 'J,'" she said sarcastically.  "Can I do anything else for you?  If not, you need to make yourself scarce, I have a lot of work to do."

"I want an explanation, Jonella.  I think I deserve it, don't you?"

Crazily, she gazed up at him.  "You want it _now_?"

"No," he said, hurt dripping thickly from the word.  "I wanted it a month ago.  Of course, I want it now, Jonella.  Here or outside?  Make up your mind."

She grabbed her coat and slammed out of her office with Donovan right on her heels.  She hissed at her boss and went her own way.  They stepped onto an elevator and rode down a dozen floors until they were in the lobby.  He took hold of her arm to keep her near, and was startled when she didn't wrench it from his grip.  They walked several blocks, keeping up a crazy pace.  Neither had said a word just yet, they didn't exactly want to start screaming in public, but she definitely needed all the witnesses she could get.  She didn't want her face on page one.  She could see it now:  _Psycho Bitch From Hell Reporter Shot Down In Her Office By Frankie "Spankie" Donovan, Respected SOG Leader._  She stopped walking, almost abruptly, and found a coffee vendor.  She had given up caffeine during her month away, but still needed coffee [even disgusting decaf].  It was more habit than anything else.  Donovan had walked nearly a block and a half before he noticed Pax wasn't behind him.  Growling under his breath, he turned around and went back toward her.  Not giving her the opportunity to escape again, he took hold of her arm and pulled her forward.  She gave him a dirty look as he dragged her back to the sidewalk.  They walked for a little while more before Pax wrenched her arm out of Donovan's grip.  She found a vacant bench and sat down with her steaming cup of coffee.  Sighing, Donovan sat beside her.

Resigned for a moment, Donovan gazed at her, _through_ her.  He wasn't sure what being 'deprogrammed' entailed, but knew it was intensive and…strange.  He hadn't been in an area that required it, but it was mandatory after an assassin was sent to a safe house.  Not many had that opportunity.  Most were cleaned before they reached that step.  She sipped her coffee, seemingly oblivious of his gaze.  It had been a month and he ached to touch her, even if it was just to stroke her hair.  He glanced down, wondering how they would begin this crazy conversation when he noticed something.  She was still wearing the silver band he had given her when they 'married.'  If he thought she'd allow it, he would have taken her hand.  However, he wasn't fond of the idea of having hot coffee splashed all over him.  

"Why did you do it, Jonella?  Why?"

She looked over at his hands.  He had clasped them firmly in his lap.  "I could ask you the same thing.  You were the one who asked and ran off.  What did you think I was supposed to do?  I lingered for two weeks, Frank, lingered and stewed.  I heard nothing from you.  _Nothing_.  So, I came back and played one last game.  You hurt me and I hurt you back.  You're insane; you know that?  You asked me to marry you.  _Me_, Frank.  It was stupid, wrong, and a sour fantasy."  She took a long sip of coffee.  She hated this shit and longed to toss it in the garbage, but she needed to do something with her hands.  "So, I had to do something, right?  I crashed out in D.C. and let Dicky fix me.  I could have gone anywhere I wanted, but I chose Chicago, if only to see you once in a while on the street.  It won't work.  It would _never_ work."

He couldn't believe it, couldn't believe _her_.  She was completely different, so unlike the Jonella Paxton he'd left in Miami, that it seemed as if she was a victim of the pod people.  This woman sitting beside him wasn't Pax.  She was a shell of her, nothing more.  His only worry in this whole deal was his daughter.  Could they not work together on that?  Could they not work something out?  Jesus Christ, he wanted her, but she was denying him again for completely different reasons.  He ached to take her back to D.C. and have Dicky reprogram her, give him back the Pax he knew and loved.  "It's obvious that I've hurt you as much as you've hurt me and I'm sorry.  What is it," he demanded.  "What is it that you're afraid of?  What is it that I can do to make you see?  What we had in Miami was the best thing that has happened to me in a few years.  I cannot believe it's gone," he paused to snap his fingers, "just like that."

Pax bit the inside of her jaw.  She could feel a string of curses waiting to bubble up and flood out of her.  She chewed on the flesh inside her mouth for several seconds before the urge slowly went away.  She was completely tempted to drive her fist into the spot between his legs.  _You hurt me, you fucker.  You fucking hurt me and I fucking hate you a little_.  "It's not gone, Frankie, it's buried and buried deeply.  You won't ever understand unless I hit you on top of the head with it, right?"  She drained the coffee from the cup and tossed it into the wire mesh wastebasket.  "I have to go.  I can't hang around with you all day, I have a job now."

He nodded.  "Can I at least walk you back?"

She shrugged.  "Do whatever you want."

The two of them walked back in silence.  This time, Donovan didn't bother grabbing her arm.  He didn't think she'd let him do that again.  She wanted him to leave her at the elevator, but he had no intention of doing that.  Instead, he climbed onto the elevator with her and followed her back to her office.  When they arrived, Donovan was going to linger just long enough to say goodbye, but something changed his mind.  There was a man seemingly awaiting her inside.  When he stood, Donovan noted that he was around six feet tall.  His hair was sandy blond and a bit on the wavy side.  His eyes were mischievous and a pale shade of hazel-green.  His smooth face was U-shaped and ended with a slightly rounded, almost pointed chin.  His lips and mouth were average in size.  His exposed skin appeared healthy and tanned.  As soon as he saw Pax enter the room, he smiled [his smile just as mischievous as the glint in his eyes] and stood.  Suddenly, Donovan felt just a bit uncomfortable seeing this man, noting his presence.  He seemed to 'know' Pax, and that thought bothered him as well.

"Was kind of wondering where you went," he said, his voice slow and drawling.  "Cal told me you went for a walk, Jaeleah."  [_Jaeleah_, Donovan interjected in his mind.  _Who the hell is Jaeleah?_]  He fixed his eyes on Donovan curiously.  "Who's your friend?"

Before Pax had the opportunity to speak, Donovan looked at the man.  "Frank Donovan.  I'm an old friend of Jaeleah's," he said.  _Jaeleah, what the hell_?  As smug as a politician, the man stuck his hand out for Donovan to shake.  Hesitating for half a second, he took the man's hand in his and shook it briefly.  His grip was firm and strong.  _Who are you and what are you to her_?

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Donovan, I'm David Graham."

Pax stood back with her arms crossed and watched the exchange between the two men.  What the hell was going on?  Donovan was eyeing the man as if he were… jealous?  Was that it?  Was he jealous of Graham?  _Oh, come on.  Donovan?  Jealous?  Over you?  Yeah, Pax, right.  _"I'm a little tied up, David.  Can you give me about fifteen?"

The 'establishing dominance' handshake ended, and Graham shook his head.  He turned to Pax, his mischievous smile back on his lips.  Donovan didn't like this man, didn't like him one tiny bit.  "Of course, Jaeleah, I'll be back as soon as you're ready to go."  He fixed his eyes on Donovan's face.  "Nice meeting you, Mr. Donovan," he said before making his exit.

_Ready to go?  What the hell does that mean?  _Once Graham had left her office, he closed the door behind him and turned to Pax.  "Jaeleah?  Who the hell is that?  Was that the name Dicky put on you?  Well, Jaeleah, you'll always be _Jonella_ to me."  Before she had a chance to speak, he looked at the closed door behind him before fixing his eyes on her again.  "This David Graham, who is he?"

She shook her head.  "Jesus, Spa-Frank, I can only answer one question at a time.  Yes, Dicky gave me the new name and identity.  I don't care what you call me, just don't do it around here.  They know me as Jaeleah or J.E., nothing else.  I don't see it as any of your business who David Graham is.  It doesn't concern you."  

She walked over to her desk and sat down casually.  Donovan approached the desk and leaned over toward her.  He gazed at her heatedly, very tempted to grab her and show her that it did, in fact, concern him.  He loved her for God's sake.  Her dark blue eyes were sparkling with mirth.  She could be Jaeleah Paxton all she wanted, but underneath it all, Pax still existed.  She was getting a hell of a kick out of this.  _Yes, I'm jealous, and yes I can't believe I'm feeling like this, acting like this.  She left me hanging for a month and when she comes back, the first man I see her with drives me into some kind of insane frenzy.  Jesus, Donovan, get a damn grip._

He reached out toward her and she was tempted to back away.  However, she had never backed down from Frank Donovan and wouldn't do it now.  After a moment, she felt him sliding his fingers beneath her left hand.  He lifted her finger and ran his thumb lightly over the silver ring.  "It doesn't?"

She had the greatest urge to rip her hand out of his, but she allowed him to touch her.  It had been way too long.  "No, because this ring means nothing."

"No," he said with a lifted brow.  "If that's true, then why are you still wearing it?"

"Silver is a very _in_ thing lately.  Haven't you been reading the paper, or do you only skip to the crime section?"  She jerked her hand out of his.  "Do you mind?  David is coming back soon and we need to do some work."

He backed away slowly.  "Is David the reason behind your continuing to say no?"

Pax wanted to roll her eyes and tell him to get over himself.  "I told you that he doesn't concern you.  Please get out now.  I'll see you around and maybe we can go to lunch soon."

"Fuck lunch," he growled.  "I don't want lunch, Jonella, I fucking want you."

"Wow, such language," she smirked.  "Kind of glad I gave it up.  I didn't even realize how ugly it sounded until I stopped.  Goodbye, Frank, I'll see you around."  With her eyes, she begged him to go, but inside, she wanted him to stay.  If he didn't leave on his own, she would open the door for him.

Fixing her with one final, deadly look, he ripped open the door and slammed it.  The hinges rattled several minutes after he left.  She was surprised he hadn't torn it off the frame.  She waited for a bit before moving a muscle.  When she was certain he had gotten onto the elevator, she left her office and went down to the bathroom.  She checked under each stall and found the room vacant.  Good.  Pax went over to the door and locked it.  No one would want to be in here with her, not for a few moments.  She grabbed as many towels as she could.  She buried her face into the pile and a long string of curses erupted from her.  After she did this for several long moments, she raised her head and sighed.  It helped.  Thank God, it had helped.  She tossed the towels into the wastebasket and made her way back to her office.  It had been so hard denying him, denying her feelings, but he didn't understand.  She still loved him, still wanted him, but it wasn't going to happen for them.  They both had to deal with it.  When Pax reentered her office, Graham was awaiting her.  Jesus, what she wouldn't give for five more minutes alone with Donovan.

**____________________**

**To be continued…**

***This is a bastardized version of the line "I'm your number one fan."  It came from "Misery," by Stephen King [all rights reserved…no infringement intended].  I'd like to be him when I grow up!   **  


	2. The Writing On the Wall

THE WRITING ON THE WALL

Pax hit the street after work [_work?_] and took the long way home.  On any other day, at any other time, she would have cabbed back to her apartment.  However, she had a lot on her mind.  She had been hanging around for more than a month, but today was the first day she had seen Donovan.  She understood that the city was large, but it wasn't _that_ large.  After all, she knew all of his haunts and could have easily found him, but she avoided him and for good reason.  She hadn't lied when she told Donovan that she lingered in Florida for two weeks.  She stayed to get her affairs in order and had every intention of returning to Chicago and digging her heels in.  However, her good buddy, Dicky, paid her a visit two or three days before she left.  He had flat out asked her what she intended to do with the rest of her life.  Too many damn people were asking her that question, including Frankie.  How the hell was she supposed to answer that when she didn't know?  His unexpected marriage proposal had caught her off guard and she wasn't sure if she could face him after it.  Yet, she intended to damn well try.  Dicky's question threw her, but she told him she wanted to go back to Chicago and try to find herself.  It sounded fricking [_Gawd, I miss cussing like a sailor_] cliché, but what else was she to say or do?  Former CIA assassins didn't just show up as the local neighborhood Avon lady.  She had to admit that she didn't give one thought as to what the future held, but she honestly couldn't see it without Frank Donovan.  Flustered, Pax never came right out and answered Dicky's question, but she did talk all around it.  She was good at that.  Of course, Dicky gave her an offer she could not refuse, but she sure as hell should have.

Dicky knew Pax's background well, had seen her records from the moment she was born until that very day.  He knew she attended college and had a journalism degree.  How a journalism student wound up in the CIA was beyond Dicky's comprehension, but he had found a mission well suited for her.  He did the pitch, offered her senior status and assigned her a partner.  He did this all before confirming her acceptance.  She had thought about it for a couple of days before calling up Dicky and accepting.  She _didn't _know what she was going to do.  Running to Chicago to be with Frankie was stupid.  She couldn't marry him.  It was too ridiculous for words.  Tentatively, she accepted the offer and wondered what remote location he intended to send her to.  When he said Chicago, she nearly passed out.  _Fucking Chicago_, she had screamed [at that point, she had yet to give up her swearing].  It was a dirty ass trick and she was tempted to beat the shit out of him.  He was sending her to the very city she was trying to avoid.  Before she was sent away for her briefing, she needed to see Frankie one last time.  She had no idea what she was going to do or say when she saw him.  When he opened the door [so fucking hot] in his robe, she smiled at him wickedly and gave him her answer.  She ran off, knowing that he would pursue, knowing that he wouldn't catch her.  

Instead of being 'deprogrammed,' Dicky basically sent her to charm school.  In a way, she supposed she _was_ deprogrammed.  There was no way in hell she could get and/or hold down a job with her attitude and language.  She wouldn't last five minutes and she had to stay at the job at least six months so that the investigation could conclude.  At charm school, she met her junior partner, David Graham.  He was cute, for a kid, but he irritated her more than anything.  He was cocky and had aspirations to lead the agency some day.  He was also being sent in as another employee at the _Chicago Call_.  They were instructed to meet and brief each other frequently, having as much contact as possible.  Jesus.  She didn't want to date the little fuck [_Ooops, old habits die hard_], but basically Dicky was pushing that on them.  It would provide, in his opinion, an excellent cover.  No fricking way, dude.  She would see him, work with him, etc., but she refused to act like she wanted him.  Ugh.  She knew whom she wanted, and for the moment, he was unobtainable to her.  Until he was, screw David Graham [_Er…don't screw, rather_].  He wasn't necessarily thrilled with her, either.  He tended to like dark, exotic looking women, and she didn't fit that profile.  Whatever the case, he could act like a friend and/or appear to be interested in her, but he wasn't.  Did it hurt Pax's feelings?  Nope, not one damn itty-bitty bit.  There was only one man who could hurt her feelings, and David Graham wasn't him.        

_God_.  Why did everything always come back to him?  She hated how he crawled under her skin and attached himself to her.  He reminded her of a tick [_A sexy one_] that grabbed on, refusing to let go, until it got its fill.  However, Frankie didn't seem to get his fill, he didn't seem to want to.  When he walked into her office earlier, she had been damn tempted to jump on him, wrap her legs around his waist, and beg him to take her right then and there.  However, she fought the temptation and kept her cool façade.  Although Frankie didn't suspect as much, she was dying inside.  She had feelings.  She loved him and it hurt.  She hadn't lied about that.  Pax had lied about her location for the past month and she wondered how he would take that.  _Don't be an idiot_.  She knew how he'd take it.  He would start screaming, yelling, and pitching a fit before throwing her up against the wall and smacking her around.  Of course, he never actually smacked her around…that much.  She could only remember three or four times that either of them had actually managed to physically hurt each other.  Jesus.  _Stop thinking about him.  Stop thinking about him.  You have to get to your place, change, and then meet that pissant for dinner._  There was much to be done, and she was certain Graham would want to know about Donovan.  He, as every other CIA operative, knew of him and her tie with him [especially after the Ahiga fiasco].  Paranoid as hell, he didn't want his cover blown.  The little prick [_Another slip of the tongue…I have to start working on that a little better, if I don't, the old me will come right on out_] was worried about everything.  He was like a baby pissing and shitting in his diapers.  He couldn't help it.  She clocked down the sidewalk busily, her mind a billion miles away [_Well, at least a few blocks away_].  She didn't know someone was tailing her.

_What the hell am I doing_, Donovan thought.  How utterly hilarious was this?  He was a federal agent for God's sake and stalking a vicious hydra that had risen up from the depths of a murky bog.  What was he trying to accomplish?  If she stopped and looked behind her, she would see him lurking there, and then the fun would begin.  He knew he could stop following her at any time, but his interest had been more than piqued the moment he saw her again.  If she was working in Chicago, there was a relatively good chance she was also living here.  Knowing she'd rather spit than give him her address, his best way of finding it [outside begging Cody to dig it up] was to follow her.  Once he found the building, locating her apartment would be relatively easy.  _Jesus, just let her go, you stupid fuck.  Hasn't she made it obvious that she doesn't want you in her life anymore?  Didn't she say it?_  It was a basic thought, one so simple that a child could understand it.  However, he wasn't following, and probably never would.  He loved her, wanted to marry her, but she was playing hard to get and it was driving him up the wall.  She had always had the same effect on him from the first day he met her until the first time he really made love to her.  Knowing what he should do, and shrugging it away, he continued onward, hoping like hell that she wouldn't spot him.  After all, he wasn't in a great hurry to lose his spleen.*    

As the building came in sight, Pax sighed in aggravation.  Her meeting with Agent Graham was in less than forty minutes.  After that, she would have to go back to the damn office and try to write some stupid ass article for tomorrow night's evening edition.  God she hated working by a scheduled routine.  Nope.  A normal life she could not have.  She entered the lobby, nearly forgetting where her apartment was, and walked toward the elevator.  _Damn, sometimes I feel like a fucking [Gotta watch that, young lady] ditz._  She climbed into the elevator, tempted to shove everyone out of the way while she was at it, and focused her eyes on the floor.  If she had looked up at that precise moment, she would have made direct eye contact with Frank Donovan.

When the elevator doors closed, Donovan knew he should have turned and left the building.  Eventually, she would see him.  She wasn't an amateur by any far cry of the imagination, and it wouldn't take long for her to sense that she was being followed.  Again, thinking of his spleen, he had begun making his way out onto the street.  However, he couldn't quite do it.  In the back of his mind, he had realized that perhaps, just perhaps, he _wanted_ her to see him.  If she did, they could have it out once and for all.  He knew Pax, knew her mind, her heart, and now her soul, and he was convinced that she hadn't meant anything she said.  She loved him still; it was obvious.  _Isn't that your fucking ego talking there, Spankie_, Pax said inside his mind.  It probably was, but he didn't want to let it go.  The Pax he left in Florida convinced him that she still loved him.  If she were the Pax who left him before her time in the safe house, his opinion might have been different.  However, she wasn't.  Hell, he wasn't the same, either.  _How long do you intend to wait?  What if she doesn't come down again for the rest of the night_?  It was a valid thought, one that needed exploring, but he had time to kill.  The team was in a lulling status, and he had his cell phone.

Pax grumbled as she pulled on a silk dress.  The restaurant Graham had chosen was in a hotel a few blocks down.  It was fancy and snotty.  She hated putting on frilly stuff and preferred her stuff, but she had had to get an entirely different wardrobe to play her role as Jaeleah.  _Jaeleah_.  She even hated the sound of her name.  Jesus.  It was more like a name designed for an empty-headed model, and the thought disgusted her.  When she had the dress straightened out around her, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror.  _Oh my damn_.  The damn thing had spaghetti straps and it wasn't often that she saw this much cleavage, especially when she didn't have much to show off.  Shrugging, she glanced down at her wristwatch.  She had very little time to make the meeting and was grateful that she wouldn't have to walk far.  Without fussing with her hair or fixing her face [_Screw it_], she darted out the door and down the hall.  If Graham said one word about her being late, she might have to punch him out.  He was definitely no Frank Donovan.  _Damn it.  Can't you stop_?  Ugh.  _Go away, Frankie, go away and stay there for a while.  Thank you.  Over and out._

Donovan almost missed Pax as she stepped off the elevator.  In fact, he hadn't actually recognized her at first.  She had donned some flimsy little slip of a dress the color of her eyes, deep sapphire blue.  She had finally taken her hair out of the clip and it hung wild and loose, just as he liked it.  This was definitely not Pax, not the woman he knew.  _What the hell has happened to her_?  He didn't attribute it to a simple deprogramming.  There was something else below the surface, and if he dug persistently enough, he'd uncover it.  He gave her enough of a head start so he could follow safely behind.  Dressed as she was, she certainly wasn't going grocery shopping.  Donovan waited and then sprung up to his feet.  He could have easily gone home, but he knew he wouldn't.  Some urge, some inherent nudge, prodded him to move forward.  He was only a few feet behind her and she would definitely see him if she stopped.  Saying a reluctant goodbye to his spleen, he continued.  It was stupid of him, but he didn't care.  He was close enough where he could actually hear her heels clicking against the sidewalk.  A few men gave her appreciative glances and she seemed completely oblivious to it.  He felt a tug at the pit of his stomach and couldn't explain the sensation.  However, it didn't take long for him to identify it.  It was the same feeling that attacked him as he laid eyes on Graham.  He was jealous.  Jealousy was an emotion he didn't feel often and the less he felt it, the better he liked it.  Yet, it was sinking its teeth into him hard and heavily.  There was absolutely nothing he could do about it, and he hated feeling helpless more than feeling jealous.  He shook it off as he plodded along.  She paused a few blocks down in front of a swank French hotel/restaurant, the _L'Hôtel de Déchirement_.  He watched as she glanced at her wrist and quickly stepped inside.  More intrigued than ever before, Donovan went after her.

Grumbling under her breath, Pax realized she was late.  Graham was more anal than… [_No, I won't even think of his name.  I won't_]the man she refused to think about.  If he said one word she didn't like, she'd smack him.  Luckily for him, he was seated at an intimate corner booth with his nose stuck in a menu.  He had a drink in front of him and didn't appear particularly annoyed.  Without looking at him, she pulled out a chair and sat down.  She noticed that the little bastard had even gotten a menu for her.  _What a nice widdle gentleman he is_.  She didn't know if she wanted to spit on him or kick him.  Actually, it wasn't a good idea to do either.  If she screwed up this assignment, Dicky would clean her himself.  Pax picked up the flimsy menu [_Wow, flimsy is a theme tonight_] and cracked it open.  She didn't care for French food, but it was Graham's turn to select a meeting place.  It had to be quiet and intimate, as if they were dating.  It made her sick to her stomach.  She'd rather hide out in a bar for three or four hours.  _Next time, I'm actually going to have fun._

When Donovan first entered the hotel, he thought he had lost her, but instinct drew him to the restaurant.  If she was meeting anyone, she might do so there.  Although French cuisine didn't seem to be Pax's forte, there was always a chance.  After all, she _had _changed.  He wandered into the entrance and was immediately accosted by the maître d'.  He had no intention of being seated in this place; he was just poking around [_stalking_].  However, to keep hassle down to a minimum, he followed the maître d' to a small table toward the back of the restaurant.  Of course, it didn't dawn on him that he wasn't quite dressed well enough to be here [_That would explain seating so far in the back_].  He grabbed a bread stick and chewed on it pensively.  He didn't think Pax had come inside here, but he was a bit trapped now.  A voice from the other side of the room caught his attention.  It was Pax.  She had been seated in a nicer section and he shook his head.  He had to know what was going on, had to know whom she was with.  For a moment, he didn't care if she spotted him or not.

Glancing over his shoulder at the frowning maître d', he stood and moved around the tables toward the side of the restaurant where he had heard Pax's voice.  As he drew nearer, it became obvious that it was she, but the tone of her voice was low and cautious.  He stopped the moment he heard the second voice.  It sounded low and drawling.  Where had he heard it?  Of course, he knew, but he wanted to deny it at the same time.  She had told him that her _relationship_ with Graham wasn't his concern, and he supposed he knew the reason why.  He wondered if he should finish his approach or walk away.  He wanted her to see him, but he couldn't elbow his way in, could he?  _Sure you can_.  Donovan moved around the booths as if he was simply passing by, and he could make out the tops of their heads.  They were leaning toward each other, mumbling more than speaking.  It was Graham.

As Donovan came closer, Graham saw him before Pax.  When his words dried up, Pax started to ask 'what,' and then she turned to look over her shoulder.  _Well, shit the bed_.  She had been trying to tell him what she had learned earlier when Graham gave her a weird look.  She knew it had to be either someone from the paper or Frank Donovan.  Of course, it was Donovan.  Who else would it be?  What had he been doing, stalking her?  She hoped that he'd see Graham and move on down the aisle.  This was more than a coincidence and when she got him alone…  [_Um, don't think that's going to happen, girlie_].  Instead of removing himself from the scene, he stopped [_Of course he stopped.  What the hell else would he do_] and glanced down at them.  For a moment, Pax couldn't look at him.  If she did, she thought she might slug him in the stomach [_I am obsessed with slugging and smacking_].  If she didn't say anything, she was certain he would.  

She fixed her eyes on him and opened her mouth, but before she said a word, Donovan quipped, "Nice restaurant, don't you think?  Quite different than your usual haunts, wouldn't you say?  I never imagined running into you here."

_I'll bet you didn't, witless…play nice…stay in character.  You don't know who's here and who isn't.  Don't let him shake you._  "No," she challenged, noticing that his dark eyes were fixed on her.  She saw anger and jealousy in them.  Anger she had seen a trillion times, but never jealousy.  "I've always had an affinity for slimy things.  So, what's your second job, Agent Donovan?  Night stalking?"

_She's pushing my damn buttons again.  I'm not sure if she has changed or not.  _He was close to grabbing her arm and removing her from the restaurant.  He had to talk to her, to see her, and he couldn't say or do what he wanted as long as her…_boyfriend_ was hanging around.  "Sometimes one has to stalk those who hide intentionally.  You have done your fair share of that, haven't you?  Enjoy your rendezvous."  He gave her one last black look before turning away and exiting the restaurant.

Pax sighed heavily, picked up her glass of champagne [_God she hated the shit_], and drained it.  "Jumping Jesus…"  She stopped.  "Never mind."  She waved over to the waiter.  She needed something a little stronger.  This colored water wouldn't do anything for her, not now, not tonight.  

"How often do you think he's going to do that," Graham asked.  "That's the second time today, J.E.  We can't be associated with Donovan and his team.  If it happens, our covers are blown," he said carefully.

_J.E.?  He just called me J.E.  _She fixed her blue eyes on his face.  He reminded her a little of Agent Shaw.  He was a pissant and she was tempted to squash him.  "Who do you think you're talking to, Graham?  A kid?  Who's the damn senior agent on this, pal?  Not you."  _Dear Jesus, now I'm even starting to sound like Frank._  "He doesn't know what's going on.  All he knows is that I was gone for a month to be deprogrammed, and I returned here for a job.  As far as your role, he thinks we're fucking."  _Ooops, Jonella came out to play again_.  "He doesn't know of the mission.  He thinks I've moved on to something else and left him behind.  Donovan isn't suspicious, I can promise you that.  He can see nothing but the color green right now.  After seeing us together tonight, I don't think he'll be back around."

He sat back in the booth and reached for his drink.  After a long, thoughtful sip, he began working something over in his head.  Pax sensed it a little and she wanted to stop it before it came tumbling out, but Graham would have his say regardless.  "Maybe we _could_ use them a little.  Could we possibly get them involved in some way?  Think about it, J.E., if we approach Donovan with the plans we've made, he might give right over."

_Well, D.G., you're a stupid ass bastard who doesn't know his ass from a hole in the ground.  Donovan would rather lose a kidney than help out the CIA with anything_.  _By the way, if you don't stop calling me J.E., **you** might lose a kidney._  "Do you realize what Donovan would do if he found out the truth?  No way, Graham, we can't go for it.  I won't even approach Donovan with this.  Don't go over my head.  Got it?"

He shrugged.  "Sure, it's not difficult to follow.  Still, if we can't ask for his help, I think you need to do everything in your power to keep him away.  What, exactly, was the nature of your relationship with this guy?"

She smirked at him.  "That, exactly, is none of your fucking business.  I'd advise you to keep your nose out of it.  I'm not here to dance, Graham, let's do what we need to do and get the hell out of here."

_Damn it, Donovan, I'm sorry._

**____________________**

**To be continued…**

***A/N:  That was sorta kinda a shout out to Deana who had Frank [I think] lose his spleen.  I thought the idea [for some cracked reason] funny, and something that Pax might do to him!  HA!**


	3. The Write One

THE WRITE ONE

After the clandestine meeting with Graham, Pax lingered at her apartment just long enough to change into a comfortable pair of jeans and an oversized tee shirt.  During the day, the paper could tell her what to wear.  At night, it could take a flying leap off a tall building.  The_ Chicago Call_ was staffed skeletally at night, but everyone normally kept to his/her own area.  It was fine with Pax.  She needed isolation to write.  Outside stimuli drove her nuts and broke her concentration.  She went into her office and closed the door behind her.  She griped under her breath when she realized that she had left her computer on earlier.  So, of course, the ancient dinosaur would run slowly if she didn't restart the damn thing.  She was completely too impatient for that.  She wanted to finish this shit, turn it over, and get the hell out.  She wanted to crawl in her bed and never wake up.  There was so much she wanted [_including a certain someone_] but couldn't have just yet.  _Just yet?  What the hell are you thinking?  Not just yet, honey, never again is more like it._  She growled a little.  Men.  She hated them.  She sat with her chin propped on her hand and stared at the blank screen for several minutes.  She knew what she was supposed to do, but she couldn't begin.  The cursor blinked on and on, mocking and teasing her.  _The ideas have dried up, Agent Paxton.  They've dried up and blown away.  Your cover is blown.  You might as well quit and get on with it_.  Quitting!  What a novel idea.  She could quit, couldn't she?  If she quit, she could do what she wanted.  What she wanted was out of her league again.  She was playing games, different ones, of course, but games were games.  

Her life was complicated.  _Miami_ had complicated it.  The façade of marriage had messed up everything.  She was more than happy with the occasional fight, fight, fuck, fuck stuff, but the other was a little different.  Then again, she had basically surrendered herself to him, opening up and sharing her horrid past, as much as he had done with her.  All along, she figured it had been leading up to this, hadn't it?  Hadn't she known from the day she didn't complete the hit that something would happen?  She hadn't been conscious of it until he began visiting her in the hospital, but knew it was happening, _would_ happen if she didn't put a stop to it.  Of course, she didn't really try very hard.  Sighing heavily, she finally had an urge to write and when she got started, she was hard pressed to stop.

*  *  *

Donovan was grateful that his daughter was with her mother, because he thought he just might have a hissy fit before the night was through.  For more than fifteen minutes, he paced around his living room, cursing incoherently when he rammed his shin into the edge of the coffee table.  _Tomorrow, that thing goes out the door_.  He wanted to kick himself for not grabbing her arm and dragging her ass out of there.  There was a deal, he knew it, but she didn't want to let him in.  He thought that after Miami, she _had_ let him in, but it took little more than a month to destroy that bond.  Jesus.  Why couldn't he just let it go?  She was with that Graham guy, they had looked quite comfortable, and it was obvious she didn't want him anymore.  Damn it, he had seen it in her eyes earlier, when he confronted her in her office.  He had seen it as sure he saw his own reflection in the mirror when he brushed his teeth.  So she was with Graham.  Let her stay with him and he could move on.  He could go on with his life as she was hers.  _Damn her, I can't.  I can't do it.  I won't do it until I know the truth_.  The truth?  What _was_ the truth?  She had accepted a marriage proposal [sort of], but then ran away and stayed away for a month.  She had been in the same damn city, but never bothered to come to him.  How the hell was that normal?  Didn't that send a clear enough message?  He had thought all of these things previously, but it kept coming in, wave after wave.  He growled and stalked toward the kitchen.  He wasn't certain if he had any whiskey in the place, but he was damn well going to look.

He grumbled as he opened each kitchen cabinet, even the ones on the bottom, and found nothing.  He came close to going out, but hesitated.  As annoyed as he was, he thought he might have a car wreck.  That wouldn't be good.  Hell, he wouldn't give Pax the satisfaction.  He went to the couch, a sound leaving him [_ahhhahhahhh_], and leaned back into the cushions.  He propped his feet onto the coffee table one last time before he threw it out.  Donovan didn't last long on the couch; he was much too restless for that.  He knew where to find her now, and he was close to going after her, but he hesitated.  Wasn't it exactly what she was expecting?  Of course it was.  She was, after all, Jonella fucking Paxton.  Fuck her.  _You know, Frankie, you certainly have an air of arrogance around you_.  Pax had told him that more than once, and perhaps, she was right.  Fuck her?  He couldn't do that.  He loved her.  This Graham character couldn't mean as much to her as he did, could he?  The ring, that cheap silver band still encircled her finger.  Wasn't that proof enough?  If she hadn't still loved him, she would have discarded it weeks ago.  There was no other reason for her to keep it.  Jesus.  She had wound him around her little finger and he was completely helpless to her.  _Damn you, Jonella Paxton_.

Donovan ended his pity party long enough to take a shower.  When he came out, he went out into the hall and checked for the evening edition of the paper.  He had one copy delivered to the nest and another here.  He had nearly forgotten about Pax and the fact that she now worked for this particular place.  He took the paper and went back to the couch.  He cracked it open and began flipping through it, thumbing directly to his favorite sections.  When he saw the byline:  _J.E. Paxton_, he groaned and closed it.  He couldn't even enjoy his paper anymore.  She had touched another facet of his life.  He tossed the paper onto the table and leaned back again.  Sleep.  He needed sleep.  Once he had a full night, he thought he might feel better.  

He had gotten only three steps closer to his bed before the phone rang.  He rolled his eyes, expecting it to be work related.  He wasn't ready to go out tonight.  Donovan glanced at the caller id and shook his head a little.  His parents.  When he picked up Stasia, they were full of questions regarding Pax.  _What happened with you two?  Where is she?  What does your daughter make of her?  How serious is your relationship?_  The barrage went on for twenty minutes or more.  There actually wasn't much to tell.  He'd told them a little white lie:  _we're on hold_.  Well, at the time, it wasn't a lie.  They _were_ on hold, because he hadn't seen her, hadn't heard word that she never wanted to see him again, or any indicator such as that.  He loved his parents and appreciated their concern, but he wasn't in the mood to speak to them, either.  There would be more questions about Pax.  If he were asked tonight, he might say something he would forever regret.  He decided to let the machine pick it up while he readied for bed.  "Sorry we missed you, Frank," his mother's voice said through the tiny speaker, "Call when you can."  He shook his head again and smiled a little.  His parents were true fussers, but then he realized that he was turning into quite the fusser as well.  He slipped beneath the covers and put his arm under his head.  He wasn't tired, but there was very little he could do that wouldn't bring his thoughts back to _her_.  It was then that he suddenly realized that his bed was big and very, very empty.  Again, his mind drifted back to Miami, back to the tiny twin bed.  For several days, they had been packed together in that thing, packed closer than they had ever been.  When she left, it was something he missed profusely.  Was it wrong that he loved her, that he wanted to marry her?  _Shut it down, and go to sleep.  Shut it off.  Shut **her** off_.

*  *  *

Five days passed.  Five blessed days.  Donovan had taken the hint and stayed away.  Pax would never admit that the thought killed her, but at least she wouldn't have to confront him time and time again.  She could get on with what she needed to do here and then get the hell out of Dodge [_Lord, here I go again_].  She dug out a legal pad and noticed several pages of chicken-scratch handwriting.  It was hers, of course.  During a particularly boring meeting, she made a few notes here and there about some dumb ass commentary the boss wanted her to write.  The boss was a man she had extreme issues with, but thoughts of him would center in her mind later.  Right now, she had to do what she was hired to do, or she would lose her job, and might lose her life.  She thumbed through the pages, realized that most of her ideas were shit, and then she turned over to a blank page.  There had to be something else for her to do.  It was only a matter of time when the bad guys would start to notice things [if they hadn't already].  While staring vacantly at her office door, she began to scribble on her legal pad.  She wasn't even aware what she was doodling, but she lost herself in thought and kept gazing, gazing, gazing.  It was doing nothing for her stubborn block.  Damn it.  She needed to find Dicky and have him take her off this nutty job.  She couldn't do it, couldn't hold out any longer than a few more days.  If it took longer than that, she'd wind up running down the streets of Chicago screaming at the top of her lungs.

She and Graham had had daily briefings and determined that no one was the wiser to them yet, regardless of Pax's scant contact with Frank Donovan.  She had wanted to gloat about that, but she didn't have it in her.  This assignment was killing her old self, killing it as effectively as a dangerous weapon would take her life.  Vaguely, she listened as the pen scritched and scratched along the pad as her eyes never wavered from the door.  If she were Supergirl, it would have a hole bored in it by now.  Unconsciously, she slipped the nail of her middle finger between her lips and began to gnaw at it.  When she realized what she was doing, she immediately stopped.  In disgust, she glanced down at her fingernail and saw that she had bitten away the polish.  Damn it.  She hated wearing nail polish because she bit on her nails when she had something weighing on her mind.  Now there was a chip in the bright red shit that had been applied so very perfectly.  Ugh.  At lunch, she'd have to polish the fricking thing again.  She glanced down at the legal pad, thinking that she might have scribbled an errant thought tied in to the commentary she was expected to write.  Instead, there was nothing other than a few words scattered here and there, composed of various combinations of a name.  _Donovan.  Frank.  Frank Donovan.  Frankie._  In disgust, she sighed and ripped the paper off the pad and tore it into shreds.  She nearly threw them in the trash until she spied the paper shredder just on the other side of her desk.  She took the pieces and slipped them in one at a time, listening to the satisfying buzz.  When her task was complete, she turned to her legal pad again and busied herself with an outline.  Finally, an idea or three had come to her.  If she didn't write it down now, she'd lose it forever.  

After half an hour, the peaceful silence in Pax's office was shattered by the loud, annoying beep of her phone.  A few seconds after that, the equally annoying voice of the receptionist called her name.  She had been more than tempted to ignore it.  Considering what happened later, she would soon wish she had.  Sighing, she said, "What is it?"

"There's a man here who says he has an appointment with you.  Would you like me to send him down?"

_A man with an appointment_?  What the hell?  She should have known who it was the moment the words sank into her thick skull.  It should have been more than obvious.  She didn't _make_ appointments with people, even those she spoke with in an article or whatever.  She went to them, whether they wanted to talk to her or not.  Of course, there was always a chance that she had.  It was the only reason she accepted the 'guest' thing.  "Yeah, Janet, send him down."

Pax had no desire to speak to or see anyone, but if she had made an appointment, whoever it was could talk all he wanted.  She would continue scribbling on her legal pad and let the guy talk until he was blue in the face.  She didn't bother looking up when she heard Janet outside chatting to the man excitedly, giggling like an idiot.  She kept her eyes focused on her pad as Janet opened the door for him.  She turned to the shredder again and let it eat another page she wanted to get rid of while the man entered and closed the door behind him.  She fed a second handful of papers into the machine as he casually took a seat.  He waited patiently for her to turn around.  She didn't care to keep him waiting.  After all, he was coming in on her time.  She was a busy writer, now wasn't she?  She nearly laughed at that thought.  When she turned toward her guest, she didn't know whether to snarl or cry.  _Damn you, Frankie.  What the fuck are you doing here_?  It was the first set of words that she wanted to shout toward him.  Of course, she couldn't go that route.  She was a 'changed' woman.  She glanced around her desk for a few brief moments.  There were tons of things to throw at him, such as a stapler, tape dispenser, scads of pens, pencils, and of course, her legal pad.  Hmm.  Which would do the most damage?  Oh, wait a minute.  If clamped down hard enough on his flesh, her squirrel teeth staple puller might give him a bad infection.  She tried to take the casual way out again as she leaned back in her executive chair.  Actually, she just wanted to check him out.  

He sat across from her, nonchalant as hell with his legs crossed and his hands folded in front of him.  Sexy as hell, he was decked out in dark brown slacks, a matching button down shirt, and a camel colored sports jacket.  His dark eyes were fixed on her and hadn't strayed for a moment.  Of course, she didn't mind.  Why did he have to come to her looking so hot?  Why couldn't he come in disheveled and stinky with ill-fitting clothes and bad shoes?  Of course, she wasn't sure if that would necessarily keep her from thinking him hot.  He'd actually been fairly ratty a couple of times in the jungle and still managed to be sexy.  Ugh.  Bastard.  He drove her to wits end without doing a damn thing.  By looking at the smug bastard, she could see he knew this.  He knew it and used it every time he came near her.

Donovan did his own once over.  She had obviously been in a hurry to get to work this morning, because her wild and thick hair was up in a messy French twist.  Yet, she pulled off the look without trying.  There were lots of things she could pull off, even well fitting business suits.  Apparently, she was scheduled to do something important today because she wore an expensive tweed suit that was a nice shade of dark blue, one almost matching her eyes.  He couldn't help but wonder if she still had any of her old stuff lingering around.  He was slightly amused, because both of them seemed to be trying to stare the other down.  It was a challenge they were up to, of course.  However, he didn't come here today to stare at her.

"What are you doing here," she demanded.  "Didn't you get enough at the hotel?"  God, her damn voice was quaking the slightest bit.  She hated it, hated it so badly, she wanted to scream.

"Enough of what, Jonella," he asked darkly.  "I didn't even touch you, so how could I have enough?  If you'll look at your wall clock, it's twelve-fifteen.  I'm here to take you to lunch."

"Is that right," she asked as she leaned her elbows onto her desk.  She propped her chin into her hands as if she were staring at a particularly interesting work of art.  "You're so very pushy, aren't you?  Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you say something, oh, five days ago about not 'wanting fucking lunch?'  Of course, I want you to understand those are your words, not mine."

He nodded absently.  "You're right, but you were the one who offered, if I remember."  He tapped his chin thoughtfully.  "Now what was it that you said?  You'd see me around on the streets, perhaps have lunch with me…is that about right?"  She said nothing, only focused her dark blue eyes on his face.  "So, I came to take you to lunch, at your request.  For the record, I'm inviting you only.  Will that be okay with the boyfriend?"

_If you only knew how I felt about my **boyfriend**.  _"I need no one's permission to do any damn thing, including that of an asshole federal agent."  She bit her bottom lip, wanting badly to sink her teeth in.  A bit of the old Pax had come slipping out, and she could see the flashing in the bastard's eyes.  It was odd.  It seemed as if their roles had reversed.  It was he who was the button pusher.  He knew something was out of whack.  Donovan wasn't stupid.  "I'll go with you, but I choose the place."

He stood.  "Fair enough."

*  *  *

Donovan nearly laughed as they entered the dark, stuffy bar.  This was definitely a place where the old Pax would feel right at home.  As she moved through the darkened environment, the patrons goggled at this well-dressed businesswoman.  She ignored the inquisitive looks and chose a table.  He sat down directly in front of her.  Every little word she said, he wanted to hear it, and see the look in her eyes.  Pax yelled out to the bartender for menus and two beers.

She glanced at Donovan.  "This place looks like a dump, but they have the best sandwiches in town."  When they were given their menus and beers, Pax ordered for them both and sent the barkeep away.  "Just what in the hell do you think you're doing?  Jesus, Frank, do you listen?"

He picked up the frosted mug, took a thoughtful sip, and set it down.  He had never developed much of a taste for beer, but anything cold would do at this moment.  "What do you think I'm doing?  I'm trying to find out what the hell is going on with you.  You have a new life and that's wonderful, but I'm curious as to why it doesn't involve me."

She rolled her eyes and picked up her own mug.  Unlike Donovan, she was as much of a beer hound as she was a vodka snarfer.  She took a long swallow.  "Do we have to keep going on and on and on about this?  Wasn't what you heard and saw five days ago enough for you?"

"No," he said, "it wasn't.  How long have you been with this guy?  Two weeks?  Three?  How long?  Has it been long enough for you to completely shove me out?  Has it?"

Pax set her mug down with a hollow bang.  If she hadn't drained half of it, it would have slopped out on the table.  "Can you never ask one question at a time?  David Graham is none of your concern."  _He means nothing to me.  Nothing.  Can't you see?  Of course you can't, you're too tied up in your own hurt_.  "For God's sake, let it go," she said.  _Just don't do it too fast, huh?_  "Can we not talk about this anymore?  Is this the only reason you wanted to see me today?  If it is, you can leave right now."

"No, it's not the only reason.  However, I don't think your pathetic explanation five days ago will ever be enough for me.  I want to talk to you, one on one, in a place that isn't so…public."

_Dear fucking God.  If he gets me to his place or if I take him to mine, it's over, it's **all** over.  I'll be on him quicker than he can blink his eyes.  _"I don't think that's a good idea," was all she could manage to say.

Donovan took another sip of his beer and then leaned back in the chair a little.  A bitter smile touched his lips.  "You're afraid to be alone with me, aren't you?  I get it.  I get it now.  This is the same shit you pulled before.  I can see it and you didn't master it before.  You definitely can't now.  Fear.  It's all over you."

She glared at him.  "Fu-You don't know what the hell you're talking about, Donovan."  _Fuck you Spankie…fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you some more_.  "I'm not afraid of anything."

Donovan started to speak, but he hesitated when their sandwiches were brought to them.  He picked his up and bit into it.  She was right.  The sandwich was pretty damn good.  He was amused; he was utterly amused.  He chewed, swallowed, and used his napkin.  "Yes you are," he said.  "Before, you were afraid to admit that you loved me and now, you're afraid to admit that you still love me.  It's okay, say what you want, but I know the truth."

Fifteen minutes ago, she had been hungry enough to eat a horse, but now, her stomach had shriveled to the size of a prune.  "You're an asshole," she said.

"I am," he agreed, "and you love me."

Although she had no intention of staying with him another minute, she watched him finish his lunch and she allowed him to walk her back to work.  She was making ready to slam her door on him, but his arm shot out and grabbed hers.  She wanted to jerk it out of his grasp, but couldn't.  He followed her into her office, pulled her up roughly against him, and mashed his mouth down on hers.  _Oh Jesus_, she thought, _oh heaven.  I've missed him; I've missed him so much_.

He broke the kiss after a few moments and gazed down into her eyes.  "Can _he_ kiss you like this?"  He left her before she could answer.

_Nope, not even close._

**____________________**

**To be continued…**      


	4. A Very Bad Idea

A VERY BAD IDEA

In Graham's apartment [it was only three or four doors down from hers], she, he, and Dicky had a general meeting.  As Graham and Dicky chattered on and on, Pax's mind began to wander.  Fifteen or twenty minutes ago, they had been discussing a part of the assignment that involved her directly, her 'boss' at the_ Chicago Call_.  His name was innocent enough, Bill Jones [probably fake as everything], but he was a naughty boy.  For a moment, she shoved it aside.  A couple of days had passed since her 'lunch date' with Donovan.  She hadn't said one word about it to anyone, but of course, Graham had somehow found out.  He had lectured her for an hour or more about Donovan, and nearly had a brain embolism.  She was half tempted to slug him and knock his lights out, but she hesitated.  He was in this mindset that he was the boss of her or something.  Perhaps he thought she'd allow her heart to rule her.  Very soon, she would have to have a long talk with him and let him know that she wasn't a typical female agent.  In the field, she had only screwed up once by falling in love with her partner.  She couldn't call what she and Donovan had in the jungle anything more than a forced relationship.  Was Graham afraid she was going to try to squeeze his package or something?  He was a kid, an idiot, and before the assignment was through, she'd have to whip his ass.  

Dicky had been staring at Pax for more than fifteen minutes.  She hadn't noticed that the conversation died between him and the junior agent.  In fact, Graham had excused himself for a drink and hadn't made it back yet.  She was obviously distracted.  She had freely admitted seeing Donovan twice since her return.  He, like Graham, had asked Pax what had happened between her and Donovan.  She gave a little more information to Dicky, because she did trust him a little.  However, she had only told him that 'something had happened in Miami.'  She said no more than that, but he was certain the 'something' had been relatively significant.  Once Graham returned from mixing his drink, Dicky was going to make a suggestion as to how the case could become resolved sooner, but deferring to Pax, he wanted to let her in on it.  Of course, she was going to explode.  He didn't have to wait for it to happen; he simply _knew_ it would.

"Agent Paxton," Dicky called.  When she didn't respond, he called out a little louder.

She jumped a little.  "Huh?"  She turned to focus her eyes on Dicky's face.  "What is it?"

"When Agent Graham returns, I'm going to discuss with you the turn this investigation must take to be resolved in a timely matter.  We can't stay at the paper very long without Jones getting wise to us.  Before I take this to Graham, I wanted to _introduce_ it to you.  I'm taking this to Donovan and his team, to ask for help, but we're going to do it in a relatively creative way," he began.

Pax's face had begun to turn the color of a canned beet.  "We _cannot_ involve Frank Donovan, I won't have it.  Didn't the two of you spend about an hour and a half admonishing me for having contact with him?  And now you're suggesting we work with him?  No, Dicky, I won't do it.  If you insist on this, I'm out right here and now.  I can't work with him, won't do it, no way."

"You don't understand, Paxton.  I'm not making a direct request.  What I want you to do is go to Jones and suggest a roving story following a specialized justice department team.  A paper is all about circulation, and if you suggest this, Jones will bite.  Hell, he might even jump up and down.  It'll give him an opportunity to continue his deeds while watching the team.  He'll be none the wiser and neither will Donovan.  I can work out the details with the DOJ and you can deal with Jones.  I know that the agents have to be anonymous and all that, but you can follow them around, giving us enough time to get organized, and then we can take the mission to Donovan.  We can basically get their help without raising that much suspicion.  They won't like it by any means, but at least it can buy us some time until the team is completely involved."

God.  He wanted to put her with Donovan.  Did he know what the hell he was doing?  Then there was the ridiculous plan that Dicky had to ease into the team and get their assistance.  Oh gosh.  The top of Donovan's head would fly right off.  However, it would also put her closer to Donovan on a regular basis.  Part of her liked that idea, but another did not.  He was right that day at lunch.  She was scared as hell.  _This is going to drive me crazy, I just know it.  The moment Donovan finds out what I've done, he'll really and truly murder me.  I might as well buy a burial plot and a tombstone._  Of course, Graham would love the idea.  He loved whatever Dicky suggested.  He was young, gung ho, and stupid.  She couldn't argue with Dicky.  Whatever he wanted, he typically got.  He and the DOJ were relatively arm-in-arm, and Donovan wouldn't assist the CIA without tons of pleading and begging.  She couldn't blame him.  She took a deep breath and called out to Graham to bring her some vodka.  She'd need it.

*  *  *

It took a couple of days for Dicky to work things out on his end, and when he gave the all clear, Pax approached Bill Jones as he sat in his office huffing and puffing over deadlines.  Jones didn't like her and she wasn't very fond of him either.  Oddly enough, he reminded her of Lou Grant in the _Mary Tyler-Moore_ show.  It was a horrid stereotype, but one so very true.  However, he wasn't quite as disheveled as the TV version.  He spent a few moments ignoring her before he finally gave her his 'what do you want' look.  Taking a deep breath, Pax opened her mouth and made her pitch.  It took approximately ten seconds for him to jump on the story.  Of course he'd go for it, and of course he'd send Pax and an assistant of her choosing.  Her assistant was [of course] David Graham.

That evening, she went back to her apartment.  Dicky was supposed to be in communication with the DOJ who was supposed to call Donovan right after.  When that task was accomplished, it would only be a matter of time before she and Graham waltzed right up in the nest as if they belonged there.  She could almost see the look on Donovan's face when his higher-ups called to give him the news.  Jesus.  She wouldn't be there to witness that for a million bucks.  Then when he saw her…Jesus again.  However, the moment he laid his eyes on David Graham…oh shit.  Poor guy, he was too young to die.  Then again, the façade of being attached to Graham would probably keep Donovan away for at least a while, and more than likely would keep him away for good once he discovered the truth.  The truth would not leave her lips; she'd leave it to Dicky.  It was time for the upper brass to take some of the heat.  

Sighing deeply, she moved into the bathroom and gazed at the bathtub.  She wasn't one for taking baths, but tonight was a good night for it.  She ran a tub full of water, stripped down, and climbed inside.  The warm water enveloped her immediately.  She wished she had a radio in here to block her thoughts.  When she was alone, her mind drifted to Donovan.  No other man had ever possessed her so thoroughly.  No other man had ever pissed her off so badly.  Ugh.  Her hand drifted up to her face and for the first time in her life, she ran her finger over her lips, the lips that he had kissed so brutally, so passionately just a few days ago.  If she had been thinking clearly, she could have shoved him back quite easily.  But she wasn't.  Donovan had that effect on her.  Damn him.  Once he sucked a woman in, he didn't like letting go.  She had known that about him, and she should have avoided an involvement.  _How could I when he wouldn't let me?  _He wouldn't.  He wouldn't let her do anything other than admit she loved him.  She shook her head.  She didn't want to face Frank Donovan, didn't want to lie to him more, and didn't want to see the look of betrayal in his eyes once he discovered the truth.  She had hurt him enough.  It was time to break the chain and move on.  _Will he let me?  Will he truly let me?_

*  *  *

Donovan listened to the voice on the other end of the line.  If one had walked in on him at that exact moment, he/she would have seen looks of disbelief and anger on his face and in his eyes.  What the hell was the DOJ thinking?  His boss wanted to send in _reporters_ from the damn paper to follow his team around?  How the hell could that be accomplished?  How could they have people in and out of the office, following them around, introducing them to danger, just to please a ratings hungry paper and a publicity seeking governmental department.  What the hell were they thinking?  He had argued against it until he was blue in the face.  The only reason he went along with it was because his boss reminded him that the team was in slow mode right now and could handle it.  However, Donovan got his way by stating that if a priority case came in, the reporters would have to go.  After the phone call, he stood and began pacing crazily about the office.  Reporters.  They wanted to go into the field; they were willing to sign injury disclaimers, but could he honestly send a civilian to his/her death?  Did he have it in him?  

He went to window and began looking out at the skyline.  The_ Chicago Call_.  It was Pax's paper.  He had asked who was being sent, but the upper brass had no idea.  What if it were?  If Pax came through the door, he would immediately think there was something more going on, and he'd probably be right.  Yet, she had sworn off the life and was a totally different person.  A bit of her old self came out when he saw her last, but she was deprogrammed.  Either that, or she had brushed up on her acting skills.  He had just gotten to the point where he trusted Pax, and he didn't want to lose that.  Why would she go back?  She hadn't been in active duty since leaving the safe house.  He didn't trust her.  It hurt thinking it, but he didn't.  For a moment, he thought about the crazy idea.  One by one, he began counting out the few weird happenings as of late.  First, he had found Pax at a local paper working as a reporter.  Secondly, he had been informed by the DOJ infrastructure that reporters from the same paper were coming in to wreak havoc.  Third, Pax had been acting more psycho than usual.  It was too damn convenient, too damn much of a coincidence to dismiss it.  Of course, Pax would come in.  He didn't doubt it for a nanosecond.  Stepping away from the window, he made a conscious decision.  He knew where she lived, and he would find her apartment.

Graham and Pax were in her apartment going over the game plan for about the billionth time.  They would come in as partners, of course, and do whatever they needed to do to 'follow' the team.  Pax had tried to tell Graham that Donovan wouldn't exactly buy her coming in as a coincidence.  It would prove difficult for her to keep her mouth shut for long.  Donovan was a fricking good interrogation expert, and if he wanted information, he could damn well get it.  However, her stupid ass partner was convinced that Donovan wouldn't know anything.  _Little buddy, you know nothing about Donovan.  Once you meet him, you'll see_.  She hated the idea, thought of it as very bad, but no one was listening to her, and she was the damn senior agent.  _Fuck this shit_.  She turned to Graham and announced that she needed some alcoholic refreshment if she intended to get through the rest of the night.  She had been gone maybe five minutes when the doorbell rang.

Graham stood and trotted over to the door.  "Don't worry, J.E., I got it," he called back to her.  He swung the door open and faced a very angry Frank Donovan.  He didn't doubt that if Donovan had had his gun drawn, David Graham's mother would be arranging his funeral.  "Mr. Donovan," he said.

From the kitchen, Pax heard 'Mr. Donovan' very clearly.  _Oh shit.  He fucking found me and now he saw Graham in my fucking apartment.  If I don't get out there in thirty seconds flat, Graham's blood will be shed on the floor, and I ain't losing my security deposit._  She ran out of the kitchen and to the door.  She glanced at Graham and sighed.  "Go, David, I can handle this," she said.  Could she?  She had never seen him so angry.  Well, maybe she had, but it wasn't a scorned lover's kind of anger.  She couldn't believe how jealous he was.  She had no intention of allowing him inside with Graham, and she took hold of his arm to shove him aside.  "I need a couple of minutes."

Before Graham moved to go back in, he nodded.  "I'll go on down to my place.  We'll pick this up later," he said.  "Call me."

_Nononono, I don't want you to let him inside here.  I wanted you to stay.  I wanted to talk to him in the hall.  If he comes in here, we're going to be in bed in ten seconds flat.  Come back you fucker; come back.  _Of course, the yellow bastard didn't hang around.  He took off, leaving her with a seething smoky-eyed Frank Donovan.  "I would ask how you found me, but that would be a fairly stupid question, wouldn't it?"  He said nothing; he stared at her, demanding information that she could not give him.  "What do you want," she asked.    

"I'm sorry I interrupted your…evening.  Do you mind if I come in?  I don't want to talk to you out here," he said.

She sighed angrily and stepped out of the doorway, knowing instantly that it was a very bad idea [_whoa…a theme here_].  She looked down and noticed that he was clenching and unclenching his fists.  Had he been preparing to deck Graham?  What was his deal?  Why was he so jealous?  _Because he loves you, you idiot_.  She watched as he made himself comfortable on her couch.  There was no way she wanted to sit beside him, not unless she wanted to end up riding him like a stallion.  Instead, she walked over to a chair a bit away from where he sat and lowered herself into it.  He leaned forward and crossed his hands in front of him again.  He had yet to take his eyes off her face.  He was so pissed off; she could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.  It appeared as if he walked in on his wife having an affair with the milkman.  She started chewing on her nails again and grimaced against the harsh taste of fingernail polish.  

"I'm not here to talk about your newfound love life," he spat bitterly.  "I received a call from the Justice Department and they're allowing a reporting team to follow us for a few days.  This team is coming from your paper.  Is it you and your…boy-toy?"

Pax felt the first tinges of anger entering her.  At first, she had felt nothing but guilt and horror, but he had really hit low.  "Boy-toy?  You say shit like that and you tell me that you're not here to talk about my love life?  Goddamn, Frank, grow up," she cried.

His bitter laugh returned.  "More and more of your true self is drifting out, I see.  It seems the deprogramming may need some…reprogramming?  Anyway, I don't want to rehash this any longer.  As I said, I have another intention.  Tell me, Jonella, is it you and the BT?"

Pax clenched her teeth together so hard that her jaw would ache later.  She couldn't sit back and let that slide again.  Who did he think he was?  Her father?  She didn't care how he felt about her or she him, but she wouldn't tolerate such ire coming from him.  What right did he have to act this way?  How many months did he string her along with his princess?  Fighting a battle and losing, she stood up and stormed toward him.  It seemed as if he anticipated this and he backed away to ready for whatever attack she had in mind.  "You bastard asshole.  My relationship with the BT is none of your fucking business.  I have nothing to do with the assignment you're talking about.  What makes you think that I want to come within five feet of you again?  _You're_ the one who keeps following _me_.  I'm tired of it."  She reached out, probably intent on putting her hand on top of his head to shove him back, but he caught her wrist before she had the chance.

"I'd advise you not to touch me like that unless you want me to take you down," he said.  "I don't believe you, _Jaeleah_.  I'm sure that when the reporters walk in, one of them will be you."

She wrenched her wrist out of his hand.  "_Get out_."

He stood and faced her.  "I'd rather come in."

Before she knew it, his mouth had staked claim on hers.  At first, the kiss began brutally as it had done a few days previously.  However, as soon as she began to relax and accept it, it quickly softened and deepened.  Oh.  The taste of him, the feel of his demanding lips against hers.  Jesus.  She had never thought she'd miss something so much.  His hands moved no further than her waist, but hers roamed all over him.  As soon as they traveled to the front of his shirt, she was intent on ripping him out of it.  She had gotten her hands on it and was just about to tear and shred it, but his hands traveled upward and grabbed her wrists.  He pushed her away.  Both of them were breathing heavily, but there was a look of confusion on Pax's face.  What?

"I suppose there are a few buttons that I can push."  He released her wrists and walked toward the door.  Before he let himself out, he glanced at her.  "See you later.  Say hello to your BT."

When the door closed behind him, she went to the couch and buried her face into one of the small pillows that decorated each arm.  She screamed into the pillow, screamed and cursed and cursed and screamed.  She had to get it out.  If she didn't, she'd wind up in the psych ward.  She walked over to the phone and hit a few buttons.  "If you want to finish this meeting," she bit out over the phone, "then get your ass over here."

*  *  *

Donovan entered his apartment about an hour later.  He wanted nothing more than to have a glass of brandy and then go to bed.  He could act as smug as he wanted [and often did], but it took a bit of strength to do what he did tonight.  He couldn't explain the emotions rushing through him as he laid his eyes on David Graham.  The phone rang, shattering the silence in the room, and he swooped it up before glancing at the caller id.

"Donovan," he barked, momentarily forgetting he was at home.

"Whoa," came a familiar voice.

He exhaled slowly.  "I'm sorry, Remy.  Haven't had the best of days," he said.  

"Thought you might want to keep the baby next weekend.  I'm going out of town until late Sunday night, and thought I'd ask you before going to my sister," she said.

"Sure," he said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  Where was the fucking aspirin?  "I'd love it."

"Good.  Could you pick her up next Friday morning?"

"Will do."

"Frank, are you okay?"

He carried the phone with him into the kitchen.  He needed painkillers and had to find them quickly.  "I have a headache and I can't find the damn aspirin.  Sorry.  It's work related."  _Sure it is_.  "Next Friday morning around nine?"

"Fine."

"Great.  Gotta go," he said as he spied the aspirin.  

Before she could say another word, he hung up.  Jesus.  He was treating everyone like shit tonight.  He went for the aspirin and dry swallowed about four of them.  If his brain didn't explode by morning, it would be a miracle.  Damn it.  It would have been so easy to give in to her, to take her to bed, and make love to her until dawn.  However, there was no way he would kowtow to her.  It was exactly what she expected him to do.  If she wanted a new life, a new man, let her have it.  It was completely out of his hands.  If she waltzed into the nest [and he was sure she would], they'd have plenty of time to play.

**____________________**

**To be continued…**    


	5. No Surprises Here

NO SURPRISES HERE

Donovan sat the team down and gave them the details of their 'observers' for the next several days.  Of course, none of them were happy about it.  He didn't expect them to be, and figured they'd all throw in the towel if Jonella Paxton entered.  Who else did he expect?  A ruse was being developed right in front of his nose, a ruse that was supported by the FBI.  The morning the reporters were expected, Donovan waited impatiently.  Although he knew who it was, he was pissed off that she was keeping him waiting.  It was what she did the entire length of their bizarre, but often explosive, relationship.  He approached the coffee maker, desperately needing something to keep his hands occupied.  If he didn't, he was afraid he'd start drumming his fingers against the conference table.  Perhaps a coffee cup would offer just the right distraction.  He poured his coffee and began to sip it thoughtfully.  Every few seconds, he checked his watch, and then checked it again for good measure.  He wasn't aware that his agents were watching him carefully, cautiously.  He appeared to be a man anxiously awaiting something, perhaps the birth of a child.  He was fidgety and agitated.  Every now and then, he grumbled under his breath before taking a sip of coffee.  He stared blankly at the door, wondering when the hell the reporters were going to show up.

When the door came open about five minutes later, Donovan set down his coffee cup and crossed his arms over his chest.  He was readying to lay his eyes on Jonella Paxton.  However, she wasn't the first to enter the room.  He clenched his teeth together and fumed as he watched David Graham stroll casually into the room.  Behind him [surprise, surprise], Pax entered carrying a large briefcase.  The four agents seated around the conference table exchanged confused looks.  Dear Lord Jesus.  Was this monstrosity back to haunt them again?  Donovan glanced at the team and warned them with his eyes to stay silent.  Once the two were out of their sight, he would explain everything to them.  Of course, that would happen _after_ he and Pax had a nice little 'talk.'  Without a word, Donovan unfolded his arms and reached for his coffee cup.  He took a sip, but kept his eyes on her the entire time.  She wasn't looking at him.  _Of course she isn't looking at me, because she lied.  She knows what she's doing and has done it her entire career.  _There was no deprogramming, no new name, no new life, but there _was_ the matter of the boyfriend.  He was the only fixture that seemed real.  

"So," Cody said, "Will this be like _Cops_?"

Donovan shot Cody a dark look before fixing his eyes on the intruders.  He couldn't believe the anger rushing through him.  It wasn't necessarily focused on Pax.  It was rushing toward Graham.  He wanted to tear the man apart and feed him to the sharks.  Not exactly understanding why he wanted to play along with the game, he glanced at Pax before fixing his eyes on Graham again.  "I suppose you're the team from the paper?  I think before you do anything, I should set a few ground rules.  Once that task is accomplished, one of you will follow Agents Shaw and Cross while the other stays here."  He glanced at the table of agents.  "Give us about twenty."  When the room cleared, Donovan ached to remove Pax from the room, to isolate her from David Graham.  The more he looked at the man, the more he hated him.  He paced around the table and then went back over to the coffee maker.  He took another sip from his cup, found it drained, and nearly reached for the pot again.  _Not such a good idea.  I'm already jumpy enough_.  "I think I'm _acquainted _with you both," he began.  "You'll sign your waivers, turn them in to me, and I'll ensure they reach the DOJ.  For reasons unknown to me, they think your presence here is a good idea.  I disagree with that.  However, it seems as if I have no control over that.  As far as who follows whom, you may fight that out amongst yourselves."  He fixed his eyes on Graham.  "But I'm sure _Jaeleah _will be more than happy to tell you that I can be a bit of a bastard."  He turned and moved toward the coffeemaker again; Pax and Graham exchanged a look.  He poured a cup of coffee and set it before Pax.  "I made it especially for you," he said without taking his eyes off her face.

Pax eyed the coffee cup.  "No thanks, Agent Donovan.  I gave up caffeine a month ago."

He nodded.  "Yes, that's right, that along with other things."  He didn't approach the table.  Instead, he leaned against the low counter and faced them.  "I have a few basic ground rules I insist that you follow.  Break one of them, and I send you on your way.  You will not hinder the work of my agents.  When they're in pursuit, back off.  When they enter a secured location, don't follow them.  Don't do anything that jeopardizes either yours or their lives.  Back off and let them do what they're trained to do.  You will not use their names or likenesses for any reason.  Any time you write an article, take a note, or breathe on the notepad, if it doesn't meet my final approval, it hits the shredder.  Keep in mind that you're here to interview and observe, not to shadow.  If you think you can follow those ground rules, fine.  If you cannot, I will show you to the door right now."  He moved away from the counter and glared at them.  "Make your decision.  I'll be back in five minutes."

The moment he left them alone, Pax picked up the coffee cup and drained it in one large gulp.  She knew this idea sucked, but no one gave her any credit for having enough brains to see it.  For God's sake, she knew what she was talking about.  She stood and approached the coffee maker and poured a second cup.  She didn't give it a minute to cool before she gulped it down.  She banged the empty cup onto the counter and turned to stare at Graham.  The smug little fucker was grinning at her.  His chin was in his hand and his eyes were sparkling wickedly.  For weeks, he had been trying to figure out her tie to Donovan, and by the look on his face, she thought he might have it worked out.  If he said one errant word, she'd stomp his ass here and now.  Pax approached the conference table and sat down.  She noticed that Graham hadn't lost the smile either in his eyes or on his face.  He was getting a hell of a kick out of this.  He had yet to say a word, and she thought he probably knew better.

"I don't think your friend likes me much," Graham said, his voice muffled against the palm of his hand.  "How much does he know about us, J.E.?  Does he think we're dating or lovers or something?  I know that's what Dicky wanted us to do at the office, but outside it, with your pal?  What have you told him about us?"  He didn't receive an answer, so he prodded onward.  "Since Agent Donovan doesn't tend to like me much, I think I'll tag Cross and Shaw.  They might not try to melt me with their radioactive eyes."  He patted her hand.  "It's okay, J.E., I know you're sweet on him."

_When this assignment is over, you and I are going to meet at a boxing ring, D.G., and I'm going to pound your ass into the pavement._  "Bite me, you putrid little fucker."  Her words didn't seem to offend.  In fact, if they had, she wouldn't have given a damn.  The prick was probably afraid to be around Donovan.  God.  How in the hell could they get out of this assignment?  What would it take?  How long would it be before Donovan beat the truth out of her?  "Cut the shit, okay?  I'll follow him, but I can't promise how long I can keep my mouth shut.  If he asks, I'll have to tell him.  You know that, don't you?"  She glanced down at her watch, realized that she had a couple of minutes.  She used them well.  She slammed down another cup of coffee and wished desperately for a cigarette.

Five minutes on the dot, Donovan came down from his office and faced the two agents.  He noticed that Pax immediately diverted her eyes elsewhere.  It was fine with him.  As soon as he could get her away from Graham, they were going to have a long talk.  She had fed him a good line of bullshit about not knowing of the assignment, but inherently, he had known she knew everything.  He wasn't surprised one tiny bit that she had shown up.  In fact, if he hadn't seen her, he might have fallen out on the floor.  He crossed his arms over his chest and gazed down at them.  "Your decision?"

Defiantly, Pax gazed up at the bastard.  "We'll do whatever you want, your Lordship.  David has decided to take Shaw and Cross.  Guess who you get stuck with?"

He shook his head and chuckled bitterly.  "Why am I not surprised?"

"Prick," she grumbled.

"I heard that," he growled back.

"Do you think I care what you heard?"

"No, Pax," he said flatly, "you've never cared to hear what I'm truly saying."

Pax didn't want to hang around the nest any longer than necessary, so immediately after they announced their decisions, she tried to escape.  However, she didn't quite make three full steps before Donovan's hand shot out and grabbed her arm.  She tried to wrench it out of his hand, but he refused to let go.  The only way he might was if her arm fell off.  Giving up the fight, she allowed him to drag her upstairs to his office.  She said nothing as he whirled around to face her.  She parked her ass on the edge of his desk and crossed her arms.  She watched as he paced in front of her for a bit before finally stopping.  Today, she wore flats and he took advantage of the height difference [as he had done a billion times] to glare down at her.  He was so angry he didn't exactly know where to begin.  He was partially relieved to note that she had 'chosen' him while Graham went another way.  He didn't think he could control himself if he had to hang around the smug bastard who was now her lover.  He wanted to shake her, to demand of her what the true deal was, and of course, there were other thoughts swirling in his head.  He loved her, wanted her, and needed her back in his life.  He hadn't realized how much until she left him a month ago.  

Donovan stopped in front of her.  "What is it," he finally asked.  "What are you doing?  Do you think I believe for one moment that you're not working in some capacity?  You're no damn reporter, Jonella.  That story was weak, even when I didn't have any suspicions.  I have never had a request to allow reporters to follow and observe my agents until now.  I find it a coincidence that my own superiors supported it and heavily recommended that I follow the suggestion to do it.  You can believe that I fought it with everything I had in me.  So, tell me, Pax.  What's the real deal?  Is this some type of CIA thing?  Are they using you to draw me and the team in to solve another of their problems?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, her eyes meeting his.  "You can't use your hurt and jealousy to cloud your mind and create such vivid fantasies.  I'm here as part of an assignment.  You wonder why it was I?  Has it dawned on you that I might be good?  You've read my shit, haven't you?  So I was sent down because I can write.  Is that so hard to believe?  You always expect the worst of me, Frank, and it hurts.  Why can't you believe anything I say?"

"Because you've proven time and time again that you would not know the truth if it bit you on the ass.  You're crazy for asking something like that.  Perhaps if you had stayed behind a month ago, I might feel differently right now.  But I don't."  He approached her and took hold of her forearms.  It seemed to be his favorite grabbing spot.  "Tell me, Jonella.  I know something is going on.  If it is, I'll be much easier on you now than I will if I have to find out by other means.  If you had come back and stayed, then went on to be deprogrammed or some shit, I might have a different opinion.  You didn't stay, Jonella.  You gave me a hasty acceptance to a marriage proposal and ran off, only to leave a note.  When you come back, you expect me to take your story at face value and act as if nothing has happened.  I think that should cover all the bases, don't you?  If Miami had never happened, I wouldn't feel so cheated, but it did."  He released her arms and backed up.  He shook his head.  "I'm completely off track now.  Thank you, Jonella.  Fucking tell me what you're doing and why you're dragging your boyfriend along for the ride."

Her eyes flashed angrily.  "Wouldn't my story make even more sense now that David is here with me?  Would I drag him along for the ride?  Would I?"

"Stop deflecting me," he said bitterly.  "When I try to steer you toward the true matter, you want to distract me with this shit.  However, since we _are_ talking about him, I have another question in mind.  How could you be with him?  How could you be with anyone?  If it had happened before you came back to me that night at my apartment, I could have understood.  You've never been stable or static.  But you _did_ come back.  You've never done that before, so I know it had to mean something to you.  I refuse to believe it didn't.  I knew it, saw it, and felt it."  Donovan turned away from her and ran his hand thoughtfully over his mouth.  If he didn't stop looking at her, he thought he might take her right here on the floor.  After collecting himself, he turned back around and took his usual 'forearm grabbing' stance.  "Tell me, Jonella.  Tell me everything you know, tell me what you're doing.  Tell me why you're here, like this.  Don't lie to me; don't feed me bullshit.  Just tell me."

She gazed up at him steadily.  "I'm a reporter with the_ Chicago Call_.  My name is Jaeleah Paxton.  My boss sent a partner and me here to follow your special team of agents.  We are to observe and interview until you receive a priority case.  I am to give you my notes each day for your approval.  David will be with Agents Cross and Shaw while I stay with you, Forrester, and Davis.  We are to tow the line or you'll kick us out."

Donovan sighed and released her.  "Jonella, goddamn you.  Do you realize what you're doing to me?"  He stepped back and jerked his head toward the door.  "Get out.  I need a few minutes alone.  If you want to work with us, report back here at six a.m. promptly.  If you're not here, you'll be left behind."

*  *  *

Pax went home immediately after the 'meeting' with Donovan and his agents.  Their conversation had literally worn her out.  She went immediately to her liquor cabinet and found her favorite bottle of vodka.  She unscrewed the cap and turned it up, drinking deeply.  She rarely drank the shit straight from the bottle anymore, but she needed it.  Every word Donovan had uttered was the truth.  He knew her better than anyone did.  She longed to tell him what was truly going on, and that Graham meant nothing to her, but she couldn't.  She couldn't say a damn word until Dicky was satisfied.  After that, hell on earth would arrive.  If Donovan didn't feel betrayed now, he surely would after the truth was told.  Sighing deeply, she screwed the cap back onto the bottle and put it away.  She suddenly found her beloved vodka distasteful.  She needed bed, but she wouldn't sleep.  Jesus.  She hadn't taken a serious lover in years.  She had had various relationships here and there; mostly they were flings.  However, things with Donovan had gotten serious very quickly.  Her bed had never seemed emptier, her heart never so vacant.  She loved him, she truly, truly loved him, but she had royally screwed up, and there was no way out of it.  It was in her to screw up, though, it was what she expected would happen.  A thousand times she wished she had boarded that plane instead of coming back to Donovan's apartment.  If she had done that, her life wouldn't be so complicated.

There was one thing Jonella Paxton had never liked and that was complication.  It was why she had stayed away so long, why she had never pushed with Donovan back in the jungle.  She hadn't wanted to become enmeshed into another man's trap, not after Ahiga.  Yet, she had also never really loved the fuck as much as she loved Donovan.  She stripped down and fell onto her bed.  Why had she taken the mission?  As she had thought before, she had plans mapped out before her, and was intent on seeing them through.  She didn't find the idea of sharing her life with Frank Donovan disgusting at all; in fact, she had actually _wanted_ to be with him.  When Dicky made the offer, she could have refused.  One thought stopped her.  _You and Donovan?  Married?  Oh please_.  Oh please had been right on the money.  She wasn't a woman who would do well married.  It had never been bred into her to want it.  Even when she became pregnant, she had never given marriage a second thought.  After all, the cold fucker had supposedly been married already.  She thought of Donovan's little girl.  How long had she actually spent with the child?  In Miami, she was around her quite a bit, but Anastasia Donovan hadn't known what to make of her.  It seemed as if the child sensed her fear of ever loving a child again and had given her plenty of room.  She wasn't afraid of Pax and had often climbed up into her lap, but she was a loving child, one who enjoyed hugs and kisses.  Pax didn't know if she had it in her.  There were so many factors stacked up against it, and he was too stubborn to see it.  He was an idiot and soon enough, he would see it as she did.  If not, she wouldn't mind beating it into him.  

Another meeting was scheduled with Dicky in a few days, and she was going to beg him to take her off this case.  Graham would be fine without her.  He was a capable, cocky young agent.  They did not need her.  She would quit the job, vacate her office and apartment, and then go back to Miami.  She should have fucking stayed there, shouldn't have let Donovan creep into her heart so thoroughly.  Damn him, but once he took hold, he sunk his talons in, and wouldn't let go easily.  She turned to her side and gazed blankly at her closet.  She raised her left hand up and shifted her eyes to the silver band.  It was a cheap thing, he had probably spent no more than ten bucks for it, but it never left her finger.  It meant so much more to her than she cared to admit and she'd never take it off.  It would have to be pried from her corpse.  It was a silly thing, but it tied her to him in a way that she had never been tied before.

*  *  *

It was midnight and Donovan had yet to make his way home.  He sat kicked back at his desk, thumbing through the evening edition of the paper.  He skipped over Pax's stuff and skimmed an article here and there.  What purpose would a CIA agent serve at a city newspaper?  Could she be telling the truth?  He shook his head.  Impossible.  It wasn't that he doubted her writing ability, but something was not right.  He wondered if she'd ever tell him.  _Of course she won't.  She won't tell you a damn thing, because she's Jonella fucking Paxton.  She is continually pushing your buttons and you're continually allowing it.  _Goddamn it.  He loved her and he _wanted_ to be with her, but it didn't add up.  Jesus. 

**____________________**

**To be continued…**


	6. The Iceman Cometh

THE ICEMAN COMETH*

_Four days.  Four damn days.  I cannot believe I have lasted that long without either killing him or her.  _Donovan had taken refuge in his office because if he had to look at Pax and Graham together one more second, he would probably lose his mind.  Jesus.  How many times in how many days had he thought that?  His mind should already be gone by now.  He could hear the activity down below.  Most of the noise was the hushed tones of their voices.  For the last few days, on more than one occasion, he had watched Graham and Pax as they sat huddled together.  He had watched as they whispered back and forth.  He hated it, loathed it, and ached to murder it.  Thank God Graham spent most of his time with Alex and Jake.  If Graham hung around more than that, Donovan was certain to lose control.  Could his fists withstand it?  _Shit._  How many more days would it take?  Each day, Donovan went over Pax and Graham's notes meticulously, searching for something wrong, searching for the missing pieces.  Within that time, he hadn't gotten Pax alone for three seconds.  Graham wouldn't leave her side long enough.  He didn't dare go to her apartment.  If he saw them there together again, he didn't want to consider the consequences of his behavior.  He stood and approached the window, looking down upon the conference table.  Pax and Graham were still seated together, discussing whatever they discussed as they sat side by side.  _If he touches her…if he places one finger on her…_  It didn't appear that either of them noticed him and he was relieved.  He could stand up here all morning and stare at them until they saw him.  What the hell did he care if they saw him or not?  This was his domain, not theirs, and he could throw them out whenever he felt like it.  However, they hadn't broken one rule he'd set forth almost a week ago.  He was actually disappointed about that.  He had expected one or the other of them [Pax] to fail.  Of course, if they failed, he wouldn't have to watch them.

Pax didn't have to look up to know that Donovan was watching from above.  He had been watching for days now, and it irritated her as well as unnerved her.  She knew it was his jealousy driving him more than anything.  For the most part, she had been playing her role to the hilt and hadn't stepped out of character once.  The only thing different was her 'meetings' with Graham.  They didn't have much time to brief each other after tirelessly observing the agents.  The two of them would take whatever time they had, and it normally happened in the morning before everyone arrived at work.  To the untrained eye, it might appear as if they couldn't keep their hands off each other.  However, to hers, she thought she might puke if Graham even _acted_ like he wanted to touch her more intimately than he already did.  The dating cover was the first thing she'd blow as soon as possible.  The other would have to hold out for a little longer.  She had to remember that their job was to compete a mission, not drive Frank Donovan to distraction.  Yet, part of her 'old self' wanted to come out of hiding just long enough to tweak his nerves.  It wasn't a bit funny, but she couldn't help it.  She didn't like his attitude, but was also very frightened.  Again, she couldn't imagine what he'd say once he knew.  She wasn't ready to leave Chicago; she didn't _want_ to leave.  Was that so bad?  Did wanting to stay sound so horrible?  _Wake up, Jonella, wake up and smell the caffeinated coffee.  It can't happen.  It **won't** happen.  _The first game she played involved running out on him after he asked her to marry him.  The second was the façade of her 'new life.'  The third was this psychotically deranged mission.  The final was the lies she'd told to a man she supposedly loved.  It was completely stacked against her.  There was nowhere to run or hide.  For a moment, she had to look away from Graham's face.  If she didn't, she might puke all over the table.  When she looked up, she noticed that Donovan was still right up against the window.  He was staring down upon her, seemingly trying to will her to look at him.  Raising her chin defiantly, she stared at him.  She would not let him stare her down.  If he thought he could, he had another think coming.  After a seeming eon, Donovan had had enough of the staring game.  He moved away from the window.  _I win this one, Spankie_.

Later that morning, Graham had left with Jake and Alex as Pax stayed back with Cody, Monica, and Donovan.  Pax had smugly thought she had known everything there was to know about the UC operation inside the nest, but she was sadly mistaken.  She took an immediate interest in profiling and was a little surprised when Monica allowed her access to her files.  Quietly, staying out of the way, she moved around and became engrossed in the files, glancing at profile after profile.  She was actually impressed and it came to her as quite the surprise.  She wasn't aware that as she made her trips from here to there, Donovan was watching her.  He stood as far back in the depths of the room as he could, but he couldn't take his eyes off her.  He was tempted to run in behind her and demand to know what was going on between her and Graham.  She had yet to tell him in the two weeks he had known she was back.  She had never elaborated, only stated that it was none of his concern.  She hadn't exactly said they were lovers.  Yet, he saw enough to convince him.  He was so lost in thought that he didn't realize that Pax had met his gaze.  When he noticed that she had caught him, he turned away and marched up to his office.  She didn't doubt that he'd resume his game upstairs, as he had done for the last few days.  If she hadn't been so afraid to approach or speak to him, she might have asked what his problem was.  Actually, she _knew_ what the problem was, but she couldn't say a word about it.  She turned her attention back to the numerous profiles.  She couldn't stand much more of this.  It hurt entirely too much.  She took one last glance over her shoulder and saw Donovan staring down again.

*  *  *

Sighing heavily, Pax shoved Graham out the door.  It was late and she was in no mood for an endless bull session.  She was with the little jerk off more than she had ever desired to be, and once she settled in, she didn't want to see him again until the next day.  Actually, she didn't want to see him at all, but she had little choice about that.  Graham would make an excellent agent, Dicky loved him, but he irritated the piss out of her.  _Jesus.  How many times have I thought that since I started working with him?  Hundreds?_  Shaking her head a little, she laughed.  She wondered if she had affected Donovan in the same way?  Hadn't she acted just as cocky as he?  Hadn't she been as smug?  _Dear God.  I was a shit._  She hadn't made the connection until that moment.  How had Donovan resisted killing her?  _Jesus, now I know how **he **felt_.  She dove for the kitchen and contemplated pouring herself vodka, but decided against it.  Since leaving Miami, she had slowly tapered off, but now and again, she took a shot.  She moved away from the kitchen and took her hair out of its braid.  She hated braiding her hair, but she had to keep it in some kind of order to work with the persona.  She took off to her bedroom and slipped out of the uncomfortable suit.  Donning her favorite pajama bottoms and sleeveless tee shirt, she came back into the living room.  She wasn't into TV and didn't feel like reading.  She wrote all day at work, so that was out of the question as well.  _What should I do with my time until morning?_  Her days were spent dodging Donovan and her nights dodging dreams of him.  _God.  I've never felt so fricking mushy inside.  What the hell is happening to me?  Admitting that I loved him was bad enough, but now I'm damn well obsessed.  _When the doorbell rang, she groaned aloud.  She had no desire to see David Graham again tonight.  She forced herself to rise and then she stumbled to the door.  She swung it open, ready to curse indignantly, but when her eyes fell on Frank Donovan, she was taken aback.

Before she had the opportunity to say one word, Donovan opened his mouth first.  "You left today without showing me your notes," he said flatly.  "Your BT turned his in, but somehow you slipped past me.  Do you mind letting me see them now?"

"Couldn't this wait until tomorrow," she asked.  He didn't answer her.  Instead, he fixed his eyes on her as if saying 'what do you think?'  She made a sound deep within her throat [_grrrrr_].  If it weren't Graham bothering her, it was Donovan.  She would never be so glad to get rid of two men in her life.  "I suppose not," she said, exasperated.  She moved out of the doorway and allowed him to enter.  She closed the door behind him and leaned against it.  She would show him her notes and shove his ass out the door.  Four straight days of his ass was enough.  She couldn't stand much more.  He stood in the middle of the room with his arms crossed over his chest.  Pax moved over to her briefcase and popped it open.  She dug around inside it and reached out with a notebook in her hand.  "I scribbled on four or five pages toward the middle.  It's titled 'Profiles.'"

With a complete lack of interest, Donovan took the notebook and flipped over to the section she indicated.  He gave each page a cursory glance.  Without a comment, he tossed the notebook onto a low table at the end of the couch.  "Don't forget to do it tomorrow.  I won't be making very many of these house calls."

At that moment, she thought he would make his leave, but he didn't.  He didn't move one step closer to the door.  "As if I care that you came over?  You wasted your time, Frank.  You could have easily checked it out tomorrow.  There was no need to be here tonight.  Makes me wonder why you're here at all.  Tell me, Frank, don't you get enough staring at the nest?  You don't think I see, but I do.  I've watched you the last four days and you can't take your eyes off me.  What is it?  What's the purpose?  I'd really like to know.  You don't talk to me; you stare.  I'm sick of it, Frank.  Right here, right now, I want you to tell me what the hell you're doing."

He laughed bitterly.  "You turn it around on me every time, Jonella.  Why should that not surprise me?  There is something I would like to know."  He noticed that she had rolled her eyes.  Apparently, she thought he was going to pressure her for more information regarding the true deal.  However, he had other things on his mind at the moment.  "Jonella, what the hell is going on with you and Graham?  Every day, I see you together.  Every day, Jonella.  I hate it that I'm obsessing about this, but I can't drive it out of my mind no matter what I do."  Mocking her a little, he said, "Tonight, right now, I want you to tell me what it is.  I don't think you love him; I don't think you want him.  I'm not leaving until you tell me.  After that, I'll go away."

His plea should have melted her, but it didn't.  It angered her.  She felt her own arms crossing over her chest and she glared at him.  "I've told you repeatedly that it's none of your business.  I don't understand why you think it is.  Why do you care?"

Donovan shook his head and approached her.  _Bang_.  Her back hit the door.  He glared down at her.  "Well, if it hasn't slipped your mind, we're _engaged_," he said bitterly.  "I count a month, how about you?"

She snarled up at him.  "_Engaged_," she replied just as bitterly.  "You're such a stupid ass, Frank.  Engaged.  That's rich.  I don't see a fucking engagement ring on my finger.  Do you?"

Although he was angry and hurt, her words shook him the slightest bit.  Their words were shouted bitterly and sarcastically, but hers were just as hurt as his.  There had been a hidden message in it, one that came out loud and clear.  He had been so wrapped up in his own hurt that he'd totally overlooked the fact that he had broken her heart.  His anger abated a little.  "No," he said, his voice lower, less tense.  "I don't, but you have the silver ring.  I've never seen you without it.  It's not an engagement ring, but I know it means a lot to you."

Pax sighed a little.  She wished he wasn't standing so close.  She could feel his heated breath and could hear the beating of his heart.  She wanted to be angry, to shout at him, to tell him to get out of her face and her life once and for all.  However, she couldn't, not now.  _I can't believe I'm going to say this.  I cannot believe it._  "Frank, David Graham means nothing to me."

Donovan made a noise that could only be described as a growl.  He backed away from her and ran his hand over his face in disbelief.  "Jonella, I don't believe that.  I've seen you with him.  I've seen you here, at the nest, and at that restaurant.  You can't tell me that he doesn't mean anything to you when I know damn well he does."

It was Pax's turn to laugh bitterly.  "You don't know shit, Frank.  Do you?  What you've seen are images you've created in your own mind.  Think about it for a minute.  If I were into him, wouldn't you see more?  Wouldn't he be here right now?  Have you ever seen me kiss him?  Have you ever seen me touching him?  Have you?  Change the light bulb in your brain, Frank.  Stop letting the testosterone rule you.  I'll say it again.  David Graham means nothing to me.  _Nothing_."

Donovan thought about what she'd said.  He worked her words over and over in his mind.  No.  He had never seen her touch him in any way, innocent or otherwise.  It _was_ all in his head.  Jesus Christ.  She was right.  She had laid her finger on him and called him correctly.  He stepped up to her again and took hold of her forearms, but did so gently.  "Jonella?  Why do you keep doing this to me?"

It was such a loaded question that deserved a myriad of answers, but there was only one answer running through her mind.  "Because you didn't mean it."

He shook his head.  "No, Jonella, you're wrong.  I meant it.  I meant every word.  Do you want me to ask again?"

She said nothing.  Instead, she tilted her head up and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.  He made a noise, as if he wanted to force her hand, but it was no use.  He returned her gentle kiss, not intending to push it further than that.  The moment his lips touched hers, hers parted against his, and he felt himself responding.  Oh God did he _ever_ feel himself responding.  The kiss went from gentle to consuming in almost three seconds.  His hand plunged into her hair, cupping the back of her head.  The other held onto her arm as he felt hers snaking around his waist.  His tongue entered her mouth, darting in and out in an almost rhythmic pattern.  Hers dived and fluttered to meet his.  He broke the kiss after several moments and moved his hand to the small of her back to support her as his mouth moved to the side of her throat.  He hadn't wanted to go this far with her, but he couldn't prevent it.  It had been more than a month since he'd touched her like this and he was hard pressed to stop.  In fact, he probably _wouldn't_ stop unless she didn't want him.  She did.  He sensed it.  It had come out in her kiss.

Pax's hands took hold of his sweater and began pushing it up.  He pulled back just a few steps to give her access.  As she pushed, she ran her hands along his smooth, warm skin.  How she missed touching him, inhaling the scent of his flesh, and feeling the heat of his body.  She worked the sweater up and up until it was off.  Not hesitating a moment, her mouth went immediately to his naked chest.  Her tongue swirled around his nipples, nipping them.  Oh God she had missed him so.  As her mouth worked on his chest, her hands drifted down to his slacks.  She unbuckled his belt, undid the snap, and pulled down the zipper.  Her lips moved back up to his for a brief moment as her hand made its way inside his opened slacks.  He groaned against her lips as her hand fell on him.  He tried to deepen the kiss, but she pulled back just a bit.  Immobile for a moment, he stood and gazed at her.  She smiled up at him gently and took his hand into hers.  Mutely, he followed her to her bedroom.

She came down to the bed first and he came after, inserting his knee between her thighs.  He kissed her again as his hands slid down each side of her body.  She still had every stitch of her clothing on, but his hands burned her with their touch.  Her body arched up just a little and his thigh pressed against her, laying her down bit by bit.  She worked her hands into his slacks and slid her hands into his briefs.  He broke the kiss as little by little, they rid him of his clothing barriers.  He came down again, once more inserting his knee between her thighs.  It was maddening feeling him against her clothes.  She gasped a little as he brought his bare thigh against her again and again.  They switched positions very briefly as she straddled his waist.  He kept constant eye contact with her as she removed her shirt.  She took his hands and laid them against her breasts.  As his thumbs began brushing against her nipples, she released his hands and began to undulate against him slowly.  This was something he had little patience for.  He sat up to meet her and his lips found hers again.  His hands drifted down her naked back and then inside her pajama bottoms.  When she felt his fingers brushing gently over the crease at the very top of her buttocks, she realized that he didn't play fair, either.  He worked his hands further inside them, managing to draw them nearly past her hips.  His hand went to the small of her back again as he lowered her to the bed.  Once the pajama bottoms were past her hips, the rest of the journey was short and uncomplicated.

Skin against skin, he came down on top of her, leaning his body just slightly on one arm.  He ran his hand over her cheek and through her hair.  She drove him insane, she played mind games with him, she had done so much damage in such a small amount of time, but he loved her.  Dear God, he loved her.  He leaned down to kiss her again, and without the benefit of touching her or her touching him further [it wasn't necessary], he entered her slowly, taking his time, feeling no need to rush.  She cried out softly, the noise muffled in their kiss.  All it took to convince him of her love was that moment of entrance, that initial thrust, when she emitted the soft noise.  It wasn't something she did often, but he knew it was attached to her feelings for him.

At the moment of his release, his body stilled against hers, and he closed his eyes as he rode wave after wave of intense euphoria.  When the feeling began to subside, he lowered his body atop hers, his ear very close to her lips.  In a low whisper, she said, "The iceman cometh."

He leaned up just a little.  There was a devilish little smile curling her lips.  "Hmm, yes," he said, agreeing with her.  "He might cometh again before very long."

"Is that a promise or a threat," she asked.

"Take it any way you want," he said with a smile before he kissed her again.  "I love you, Jonella.  I missed you so much," he whispered against her lips.

_Say it back.  Say it back.  You feel it.  Say it back.  _"I love you."

He kissed her again, but kept his body connected to hers.  As he lay against her, she wondered how in the world she could tell him now.

**____________________**

**To be continued…**

***Thanks to Dreamy for allowing me to borrow her little quip.  It was too funny to ignore!**       


	7. A Tough Call to Make

A TOUGH CALL TO MAKE

Pax's face was buried in her pillow.  She knew the sun was trying its damned best to peek through the window shades.  The clock had begun screaming in her ear more than half an hour ago, but she had shut it down before she could hurl it across the room.  She had decided right then and there that she wasn't getting out of bed today.  Nope.  She would give herself a good five minutes and then she'd call Graham and tell him to go without her today.  She was 'sick.'  Actually, she was just dog ass tired.  How much sleep did she get last night?  Ten or fifteen minutes?  Today would be a sleep day.  She'd play hooky and let her stupid partner pick up the slack.  He wouldn't mind.  He was Superman in training.  When she felt movement beside her, she moaned softly in her pillow.  She had almost forgotten that she hadn't slept alone.  _Slept?  Did we sleep?  I don't remember._  Another sound left her as she felt Donovan's hand sliding up from her buttocks to the small of her back.  The bastard knew exactly where to touch her.  He knew she was awake, but he was giving her a chance to say something first.  She rose up and stretched dramatically.  She turned to her side, facing him.  She kissed him gently, delicately almost.  _This_ was the Pax he had known in Miami.  He drew away from her gentle kiss and gazed into her eyes.  He leaned up just the slightest bit and caressed the side of her cheek.  

He half-sighed/half-moaned.  "Marry me?"

Pax moved away from him and sat up.  Huffily, she ran her hands through her wild hair.  "Frank, why did you have to get all stupid on me?"

He gawped at her.  "I'm getting stupid on you?  What do you mean?  I love you and I want to marry you.  Why is that stupid?"

She sighed.  "It just is, Frank, it's dumb.  We haven't been together in weeks; you come in here last night and take me to bed.  You then expect me to accept a marriage proposal the day after?"

"You actually accepted it a long time ago," he said pointedly.  "I'm sorry, Jonella.  I don't want to isolate you, especially after last night.  But I also don't want to walk out of here today as if nothing happened.  I know you still love me; you've said and shown me as much.  What is it?  Can you tell me why you're afraid?  I know there has to be something."

At that moment, she was tempted to tell him everything, to spill her guts until they were literally laying before him.  She was afraid for various reasons, but one of the main ones centered on her 'mission.'  The moment he found out, it would be over.  He might love her deeply, but he wouldn't keep putting up with her lies.  In fact, _she_ was getting pretty damn tired of putting up with her lies, and she was telling the damn things.  She bit it back.  She couldn't tell him, couldn't blow their covers just yet.  She hated this, hated it with a passion that burned hot enough to boil her blood.  He wanted an answer; it was more than obvious in his eyes, and the tone of his voice.  Yet, she couldn't say a word, couldn't utter a single syllable.  She also couldn't look at him, not right away.  Pax could feel the steady gaze of his eyes on her face.  His hand was just inches away from hers.  They had made love three or four times last night, had shared every emotion on the spectrum.  A day later, she couldn't say a word to him.  _God, why did I let him make love to me?  Why did I allow him to stay?  Stupid, stupid, stupid.  _

When she turned to gaze at him, he noticed a helpless look about her face.  He hadn't seen it come across her face very often.  Risking life and limb [perhaps his spleen as well], he reached out to her, touching her arm gently.  His hand moved up to her neck and then progressed to her cheek.  She didn't shove him away; instead, she covered his hand with her own.  He had peeled away so many of her layers, but there were still so many more.  A few moments ago, she had been set on strangling him, but now he had effectively softened her heart.  _Damn him.  Damn him for doing this to me._  She leaned toward him slowly and he gladly accepted her kiss.  Within moments, it deepened.  She plunged her hands into his hair to hold him close.  He broke the kiss and gazed at her.  She was lost in his gaze, his eyes.  He wanted her again and she told him with her eyes that she wanted him just as much.  He placed his hand on the side of her neck and kissed her yet again.  She had never known a man who liked kissing as much as he.  He did it so well, and of course, she didn't mind.  No matter what the words or the riff, he always came back to her.  _He always came back_.  

Her back hit the bed with an almost audible _poof_.  Partially leaning over her, he broke the kiss, and his mouth traveled downward.  He placed gentle kisses and nipping bites along the arch of her throat.  She responded by arching her body a little and plunging her hands into his hair.  She often wondered why he kept it so brutally short all the time, but then she thought she had it figured out.  Perhaps he didn't quite enjoy having the shit yanked out of it while he tortured one of his lovers.  He was _that_ good, but if she told him, the witless fuck [_Ooops, Jonella slipped out again_] would probably gloat and agree with her.  Smug bastard.  But God, did he _ever_ deserve to be smug.  Her hands slipped out of his hair as his body and mouth moved just a bit further down.  Feeling helpless [_God, he is the **only** man who has ever made me feel like this_], she laid her arms on each side of her body as if surrendering.  She closed her eyes a little as she felt his hands shoving the covers away from their bodies.  A moment after that, he cupped one breast between his thumb and forefinger.  She made a small noise in her throat when she felt his lips encircling the nipple.  He drew it into his mouth and released it.  As he watched it spring back, he fluttered his tongue over it and then did it again.  He made the same moves on its twin.  By that time, Pax was a quivering mass of human flesh.  

Her entire body began to tingle and Donovan's lips made a progressive move downward.  He stunned her when he hesitated at her navel.  She was about to speak up and say something, but his movements soon stopped her.  As if he were laying a big deep wet one on her mouth, his lips covered her navel for a brief moment before he dipped his tongue inside.  _Uh_.  Crazily enough, she felt tears just behind her eyes.  Why did something so damn wonderful have to hurt so much?  Silently, she lay back as his lips followed their trail lower still.  She couldn't do this.  She couldn't do this anymore.  She loved him so much, but didn't have the heart to lie to him.  If this continued, she'd never want to leave his side, and once he discovered the truth, out the door she'd go.  She didn't want to get so close to him.  It had been hard enough letting him go in Miami, but after this?  Her mind was screaming 'no' so loudly that it shook her body, but the words never made it to her mouth.  She could only lay still, bite down on her lip, and cry like an idiot.  He placed gentle kisses just inside each knee before rising on his between her parted thighs.  He reached out for her and she met him without the slightest bit of hesitation.  His hand went into her hair as he kissed her.  He drew away after a moment and noticed the tears.

"What is it," he asked.  "What?"  She shook her head, completely unable to vocalize.  He kissed her again, very gently.  "We've come a long way," he whispered against her lips, "and I want you to continue to trust me."  

Right then and there, he was playing his hand, laying every card he possessed out on the table.  He was making an opening for her to confess, and she was damn well close to spilling it all.  It was at the surface and would be so very easy to say, but she couldn't.  She was completely torn and unsure where to turn.  To whom did she owe the most loyalty?  _You owe Frank, you stupid bitch_.  "Don't ask me," she said, "please don't ask.  If you do, I'll tell you everything, and I…I just can't."

She wanted to pull away at that moment.  She felt it was the right thing to do.  However, he wouldn't let her go.  He was letting her inability to talk slide.  Pax couldn't believe it and she stared at him incredulously, wondering what the hell was going on inside _his_ mind.  He kissed her again, lifting her body the slightest bit before plunging into her.  Each time he touched or made love to her, a little part of her died inside.  Each thrust was countered by her betrayal and lies.

Much later, Pax awoke to an empty bed.  She rose up on one elbow and glanced at the clock.  It was a bit past eleven.  She groaned, lay back, and covered her eyes with her arm.  Goddamn.  She hoped he had gone.  It had taken so much effort to keep her mouth closed.  What the hell was she going to do?  She wanted to take both Dicky and Graham and knock the shit out of them.  Her phone rang suddenly, but she had no desire to sit up and answer it.  The machine kicked on after the fifth ring.  "J.E., where the hell are you," Graham's voice asked indignantly, "this is the fifth time I've called, and neither you nor Donovan is here."  _Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, you stupid little fuck._  Graham wasn't dumb.  He knew the score.  He said it himself.  The thing was, she had no idea where Donovan had gotten off to, and he surely wasn't here with her.  After a moment, she sat up again and saw a note awaiting her on the pillow Donovan had borrowed overnight.  Sighing, she picked it up and squinted down at it.  _I had to leave around eight to make arrangements to pick up my daughter_, Donovan had written_.  I want you to come see me tonight.  It's time for you to tell me what's really going on.  If you don't, I'll send you both out the door_.  Once again, he had called her hand.  What the hell would she do now?  Hastily, Pax climbed out of bed and hit the shower.

Although Graham was her partner, Pax didn't feel the need to call him to the meeting with Dicky.  If she had, the little fuck would have horned right in, and argued each of her points.  Dicky would probably lie on Graham's side.  She often wondered if the putrid little fuck was his son or something.  If she spoke to Dicky one on one, perhaps she would have a chance.  It had been long enough to let Donovan in on the big secret.  Not only did she want to meet his demands, but she was also tired of lying to him.  The lies were over and she'd gouge out her own eye before she let Donovan down again.  It didn't matter if he never wanted to see her again; she had to get this out and over.  While waiting for Dicky, Graham called about a dozen more times demanding what was going on.  She eventually called him back and told him to fuck off and leave her alone.  She was taking a sick day.

Dicky had barely gotten inside before Pax began to barrage him.  "It's over, Dicky.  I have to tell Donovan today.  If you want me on this job, I'll get your blessing.  I can't do this anymore.  I can't _lie_ anymore.  Jesus jumping Christ on a fucking camel, Dicky, this is insane.  I told you at the beginning that this was a fucking sorry ass idea, but you and your junior brownnoser pushed it ahead.  Donovan can't fucking stand the damn CIA, and you know what?  I don't fucking blame him.  We've been toying with him and his team, and you believe he'll fall in line and help us out of the kindness of his heart?  Goddamn, Dicky let me tell him."

He sighed and glanced at her.  "Agent Paxton, I'm not sure telling him now is a great idea, and I need you on this.  Graham is good and enthusiastic, but he's not you.  Alone, he'll get his ass shot off.  Jones is still clueless as to what's going on, and that's the way we need him to stay.  I want to warn you, though.  I think he knows about your thing with Donovan.  I think he has seen him in your office a couple of times and his interest is piqued."

"Why is every fucking body so goddamn interested in my love life?  I've never had a conscious before.  I never cared before.  He changed that and he fucking trusts me.  If I don't tell him, he's going to cut us off and kick us out.  One way or another, this mission ends tonight.  You either let me tell Donovan right now, or what we've worked for the last month will all go down the fucking toilet."  She stood and looked at him.  "Just for the record, once this job is done, I'm out for good.  Start the paperwork now.  Make your decision, Dicky.  Make it so I know what I need to do tonight."

*  *  *

Donovan stood behind the kitchen counter trying to put together a sensible dinner for his fussy daughter.  She seemed dissatisfied with everything he set before her.  He should have been annoyed, but when he gazed down at her in her highchair, she was grinning up at him adoringly.  Any agitation he felt quickly flew out the window.  When the doorbell rang, he glanced up and sighed.  He honestly hoped it was Pax and also hoped that she was ready to give him the information he wanted.  He grabbed a dishtowel and wiped his hands.

He looked at his daughter.  "Don't move."

"Nope," she called happily in response.

As he moved toward the front door, he heard Stasia beating her spoon against the tabletop of the highchair.  He glanced over his shoulder to make sure she stayed put as he grabbed the doorknob and swung the door open.  "Jonella, I'm glad you came," he said.  Without another word, he stepped away from the door and allowed her to enter the room.  He noted [with a smile] that she was wearing one of her short skirts and silk blouses.  Tonight, she was herself.

"Dat," Stasia called from the kitchen.  Curiously, she peered over her shoulder and fixed her violet eyes on the tall, tall lady.  She waved her spoon toward her.  "Spoon?  Lady?  Spoon?"

Pax shook her head incredulously.  The kid was trying so hard to break through the ice.  It was as if she sensed that Pax needed a boost of confidence.  "Hi, Blondie," she said nonchalantly.  She walked into the living room and seated herself on the couch.  There wasn't much that had changed about the place, but she did notice a marked lack of portraits with his princess in them.  Most of them were either of the kid alone or with him.  She looked up at Donovan and noticed that he hadn't moved that far away from the door.  He had donned blue jeans and a button-down shirt that wasn't tucked in.  _He looks so fucking hot.  Goddamn, how can he do that all the fucking time_?She couldn't look at him for long.  "I'm thinking that our conversation should wait until after you put the kid to bed."

He nodded.  "I agree.  Come into the kitchen with me.  Maybe you can help me convince my daughter that she needs to eat her peas," he said pointedly, glancing at his child.

"No peas," Stasia said.  "Peas yucky."

Pax took a deep breath, stood, and followed Donovan into the kitchen.  Stasia goggled up at the tall lady.  Pax gazed down at the child and smiled a little.  She would definitely look exactly like her mother when she grew up.  "Don't you want your peas," Pax asked tentatively.

Stasia shook her head firmly.  "No.  No peas!"

Pax looked at Donovan with a wry smile.  "I tried.  I see where she gets her stubbornness."

She stayed in the kitchen when Donovan put his daughter to bed right around seven that evening.  She nervously fiddled with a spoon.  Pax had actually eaten Donovan's cooking and survived.  She waited patiently, wondering how to approach this shit.  When Donovan reentered the kitchen around thirty minutes later, he sat across from Pax and noticed that she had cleared the table.  He gazed at her for a few moments and saw a troubled look on her face.  Whatever her confession, it was serious shit.  She wasn't troubled that often.

"Tell me, Jonella.  I want to know the deal."

She shook her head and laughed bitterly.  "No you don't, but I'll tell you anyway.  I'm at the paper as part of a CIA operation, headed by Dicky.  David Graham is my junior partner.  The month I was away I was being trained.  Dicky approached me about this right before I left Miami to come to Chicago.  It was Dicky's idea for us to 'follow' you, because he wanted to get suspicion off us at the paper.  He and Graham also thought it would be a nice way to get the team involved."  She had no desire to go into the mission, because in a moment, she expected Donovan to pick her up and throw her out of the window.  The haze had begun to creep across his vision.

Donovan could feel his pulse booming at his temples.  He had known that this was a CIA thing.  He had known it all along.  Yet, it didn't stop the hurt or the anger.  She had lied to him again.  She had taken a job with the CIA instead of coming back to him.  Trying to keep his anger at bay was difficult, but he had just gotten his child to sleep.  He growled and pushed back from the table.  He stood and leaned against the sink.  "You were using me," he said as if realizing what was truly happening for the first time.  "Goddamn it, Jonella.  Instead of all the stupid play-acting, why didn't you just come to me," he asked through clenched teeth.  "But fuck no.  That's not your style, is it?  You must twist things, play me, and fuck around.  God.  You wouldn't even tell me before you fucked me.  Jesus Christ, you're some actress.  I knew something wasn't right with you."

"First of all, it takes two people to fuck.  It's not like I raped you.  If you'll notice, I tried my damn best to stay away from you every way possible other than actually murdering your ass.  Did you listen?  No.  You bulldozed, shoved, pushed, and beat your way in.  How am I supposed to act?  You're persistent and fucking stubborn, and yes, I love you.  I trained for the mission instead of coming back because I had a piece of reality thrown right in my fucking face.  I'm not cut out to be a wife and I'm not ready to have a husband.  I'm not sure about your kid and how I could handle her.  What else was there for me to do?  Think about that, Frankie.  Think about all the women you've ever had in your life, think about the woman you married, and tell me if you can see me in that position."

In a rush, he came toward the table and leaned toward her.  "If I couldn't _see_ it, I wouldn't have asked.  This hang-up is yours, Jonella, not mine."  He moved away quickly before the temptation to strangle her became too strong to ignore.  He spun around to face her.  "To be perfectly honest, I don't know who I'm more angry with, you or the fucking CIA for trying to use me again."

She sighed.  "I didn't like it and I tried to stop it, but no one listened to me.  I swear this was not my idea.  It was something Graham and Dicky championed.  I fought tooth and nail against it."

"You didn't fight very fucking hard, did you," he asked lowly, severely.  "You played right along, even went so far as to lie to me _twice_ when I asked.  There's a clear pattern here, one that spans our entire relationship, from the moment I met you until tonight.  Here is where it stops once and for all."

Pax nodded.  She couldn't agree more.  She expected this reaction and was prepared to leave.  Her papers would be complete in a few days and she could return to the heat and warmth of Miami.  She might even drop in on Frankie's parents and let them know how badly she had fucked up.  She pushed away from the table and moved around it to make her way to the living room.  Confused, Donovan watched her progress.  Where did she think she was going?  Before she reached the living room, he went after her.

Gently, he took hold of her arm and turned her to face him.  "Jonella, where do you think you're going?"

She looked at him as if he had lost his mind.  "I'm leaving, Frank.  Don't you want me to go?  You said it stops here once and for all."

"Jonella, I'm pissed nine ways to hell right now, but I love you, and I'm not letting you walk out on me again.  What has to stop is the bullshit.  That's all I ask of you.  The rest of it will get resolved in time.  I know only a little piece and tomorrow you will tell me the rest."

"Why not now?"

He drew her close enough so he could touch her face.  "Now I intend to make love to you.  We always make love after a fight.  Don't tell me you have forgotten already?"

She was still stunned at his reaction.  He should have tossed her right out the door.  "You're one crazy bastard," she said.

He placed a gentle kiss on her lips.  "The craziest."

**____________________**

**To be continued…**       


	8. The Mission At Hand

THE MISSION AT HAND

It was morning again and Pax stretched her lean frame beneath the covers.  The room was filled with the scent of Donovan's cologne.  _Ah yes.  I almost forgot that I slept with him last night_.  The bed was empty beside her.  She touched the space that Donovan had occupied earlier and noted it was still warm.  _Hmmm…he's still here.  Maybe he'll come back and wake me up nice and proper._  Actually, she couldn't imagine how Donovan managed to let his anger slide enough to allow her to stay.  He had and then made love to her so gently, without an ounce of savagery.  Toward the front of the apartment, she heard a few thumping noises and realized that he was probably with his kid in the living room.  She sat up and glanced around the room.  Oddly, she felt at home here, but didn't have the faintest idea why.  His apartment wasn't her home; it was _his_.  When she noticed the door creaking open, she quickly drew the sheet up past her breasts.  Not exactly modest, the covers had pooled to her waist.  She didn't think the kid would appreciate that.  It wasn't exactly the kid; it was Donovan.  He was carrying in a tray with a steaming pot of coffee.  _What the hell is he doing?  How can he be so sweet after what I've put him through?_  He laid the tray out on the bed opposite her and then he came around to her side.  He sat on the edge near her and ran the back of his hand over her cheek before dropping it down.  He leaned toward her and kissed her.  She allowed the sheet to drop down and pool at her waist again.

What the hell was he doing to her?  When he was like this, she had no self-control and wouldn't hesitate to attack him.  She only hoped the kid was still in bed.  Pax wanted more of him, but he drew away and dropped his mouth down to the hollow between her throat and shoulder.  _Goddamn.  Here he goes again.  Jesus…how the hell could I be so stupid as to walk away a month ago?  Stupid Pax.  You are, indeed, a dolt._  She wanted to get her hand into his hair and then drag his ass back down to the bed.  The fucking mission could wait another hour or two.  Hell, fuck it.  It could wait until forever.  He drew away from her and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.  The smug bastard was so loving.  She could see how he sucked in so many women.  Well, that among other things.  How could he be so angry with her, but so willing to treat her human the next morning?  When he pulled back away from her, she glanced at the coffee pot before fixing her eyes on him.  

"It's decaf," he said with a smile.

"I hope you're fucking kidding," she asked, gazing at him curiously.

He laughed a little and nodded.  "I am.  There's enough caffeine in it to keep a horse awake for a decade."

A faint smile touched her lips, but soon fell away.  Something about him had changed.  Something about their relationship was different.  It was more different than before.  "Frankie, why didn't you make me leave last night?  I fucked up really big and I think I deserved to be tossed out on my ass, but you didn't.  Why?  Why didn't you?"

He sighed and shook his head a little.  "I thought we covered this already.  I can't say I'm not pissed or hurt or irritated, but you told me.  Your reasons for not telling me were legitimate.  You didn't want to betray a loyalty.  I can't fault that altogether, because I'm the same way, but I was serious when I said that it's over.  It is, Jonella.  No games.  I know you can swear off them.  I know it's in you.  You just have to want it and do it.  I love you, and I'm in no hurry to throw you out again."  He leaned toward her and kissed her again.  "As far as us and this marriage thing, I won't mention it again unless you're ready to hear it.  I can respect your wishes.  I can't say I understand them, because I don't, but I will never force you to do something you don't want."  He brought his hand up again and ran his thumb over her cheek.  "You can't play hooky again today.  First, you tell me what the deal is and then we take it to the team.  Call Dicky and bring him in."

She nodded.  "Okay, but first, we have to pick up a paper."

Later, Donovan stood with Pax as she spread out the morning edition over his kitchen table.  He had no idea what she was doing until he looked over her shoulder.  She was highlighting the first letter of every word on each page, but skipped over a few sections here and there.  It took a while to accomplish this task because this edition was twice as thick as the normal morning paper.  The _Call_ didn't run weekend night editions.  When she finished highlighting the paper, she sat down and began making notes as she turned each page.  He had never seen anything like this before and it made little sense.  Whenever he tried to say anything, she'd hold her hand up impatiently as if she were shooing him away.  The only time he left her side was when he needed to take care of Stasia.  During one of those times, Donovan entered the kitchen and saw that Pax was rewriting what she had deciphered from the paper.  She had taken the _Call_, scrunched it up, and shoved it aside.  Looking over her shoulder again, he saw that Pax had written a few lines in large block letters:  _MTG. AT LITERVILLE WAREHOUSE.  FIND LOUIE AND ABRAM.  THEY HAVE BLUEPRINTS.  BRING BACK TO CALL.  FLIGHT OUT TO ME IN TWO WEEKS.  MUNITIONS.  _It made little sense to him.  He had no idea what the Literville Warehouse was, and had never heard the names Louie and Abram.  Pax looked up at him, indicating her notes.  She slid them toward him as if he should know what they were and what they meant.  Nevertheless, he picked up the paper and read through the note again and again.  

"Pax," he asked, "what is this?"

She rolled her eyes.  "Goddamn.  Here I thought you were smart or some shit.  The boss, Bill Jones, has something going with the printers and they arrange the paper in such a way as to spell out their code.  These are some type of plans for an underground munitions exchange between terrorists in the Middle East and those who help them in this country.  Louie and Abram are the two lead men.  They're fairly nondescript and work in the printing room.  This is basically a notation Jones made to himself and to his men to remind them of the job ahead.  Dicky and his crew have been watching Jones for months and they were having difficulty infiltrating the paper.  Jones and his buddies know most of the agents and especially Dicky.  The paper always follows the same pattern.  When Graham and I were brought in, our articles began to sink into their code pages, so most of the time, they use the weekend editions now.  When I first started, they went out in both day and evening editions.  We broke their code and Jones really loves me because of that, but he likes my style.  However, if he ever finds me out, I'll be unemployed…and dead."

"Is Jones from a Middle Eastern country or does he simply have ties to them," he asked as he stared down at the note.  

Pax shrugged.  "Not sure at this point.  Bill Jones isn't his real name, of course, but if I had to guess, he's probably either a sympathizer or is in it for the money.  From what Dicky dug up, he's been using the paper for quite some time for other dirty deeds that aren't quite categorized as terrorism.  He's used the same code in much the same way.  We have dozens of pages of notes and letters.  He's been working primarily with Louie since the beginning.  Abram only started showing up in the game a few months ago.  I'm not sure about either of those guys, because I've never seen them.  Any time anyone tries to go down where they work, Jones gets upset.  Gee…now I know why."  She looked up at him and smiled a little.  "Now you see what I do on my weekends."

"Any ideas as to what the full names of those guys are," he asked hopefully.

She shook her head.  "I wish.  Can't produce fucking miracles, Frankie.  We try to intercept what we can, but the printers normally see it before we get it.  Surprise, surprise.  We were afraid to associate ourselves with you because Jones probably knows who you are."  She sighed.  "Soooo, Dicky came up with the cover of me and Graham being…together.  I thought the idea a little disgusting, but went along with it.  The first time Graham saw you in my office, he nearly had a heart attack." 

Donovan laughed a little and shook his head.  When he looked up, Pax was gazing up at him curiously.  "It really _was_ all in my head, wasn't it?"  She nodded without saying a word.  "I nearly ruined it for you, didn't I?  I nearly allowed my jealousy to put you right out there.  Jesus."  He approached her from behind, leaned down, and placed a kiss at her temple.  "Looks like I'm matching you lately for stupid ass tricks, huh," he said, his voice falling in her ear.  He moved her hair over her shoulder and pressed his lips against the side of her neck.  "I think we need to call in the team and let them in on yours and Graham's findings.  The quicker we get Jake and Alex in, the better."

She pulled back and away from him.  "I can't believe you're going to do this, Frank.  If I were you, I'd tell the fucking CIA to kiss my ass.  I couldn't be as forgiving as you.  Hell, I'm _not_ as forgiving as you."

Donovan kneeled before her.  "I'm not doing it for the CIA, Jonella.  I'm doing it for you.  If it didn't involve you, I wouldn't think twice about telling them where to shove their mission.  Whenever you're in the mix, I'm right behind you."

"I appreciate that.  I'm really sorry for running out on you."  She sighed a little.  "Whatever the deal, Frank, I'm out.  Dicky's already got the paperwork in progress.  I don't want this anymore, I can't stand this anymore."  She gazed down into his eyes and knew he ached to ask what she wanted, but he held it in for all he was worth.  Her hand went to his cheek.  _Good fucking God.  Why is this so hard?  I've never done anything like this in my life and I'm fucking scared.  _"I…I want to stay here…with you."

From the look in her eyes, she was serious, probably more serious than she had ever been around him.  "If it matters to you, that's exactly what I want as well.  It's all I ever wanted, even without asking you to marry me.  As before, I'll do whatever I can to help you leave, I just don't want to send you off again.  You can leave clean, with a blank slate, and be anyone you want.  It's just that I want you to do it here."

"Could we knock off the mushy shit," she asked with a smile.  "I thought you wanted to work today."

*  *  *

After Donovan took Stasia to his ex-sister in-law's apartment, he and Pax made their way to the nest.  They'd each contacted their own teams.  The cat was out of the bag now, so there was no need to pussyfoot around and pretend the 'reporters' were writing articles.  Pax hoped that Dicky and Graham had brought a paper with him.  If they didn't, someone would have to run an errand.  When they entered the nest, everyone at the conference table turned in the direction of Donovan and Pax.  _Here we go again_, Cody thought.  _They're together._  Pax was relieved to see a thick paper sitting before Graham.  It was the same edition she had purchased earlier and she had also brought along her transcribed notes.  She didn't need to sit down and go through the timely process again.  Thank God.  She didn't have the heart for it.  All the chairs were occupied, so Pax leaned close to the coffee maker, and Donovan was opposite her.  He watched her with his arms crossed over his chest, waiting for her to begin.  Today, this was her show.

She rolled her eyes, sighing inwardly.  Goddamn, she hated public fucking speaking.  For Pete's sake, Dicky was the damn lead op.  She was a lowly senior peon.  "I suppose by now, you all know that neither my partner and I are truly reporters interested in observing your special ops group."  The looks around the table reflected a general 'no shit' attitude.  She sighed.  "The paper is currently run by a fellow named Bill Jones.  Jones is involved with several covert operations of his own.  Right now, we think he's swapping secrets with Middle Eastern terrorist groups.  He's using the paper for this.  Before Graham and I came along, he sent messages through the paper by using a simple system.  He took each letter of every word on a page to transmit his deals.  Sometimes, the commands were only a few lines long after having a thousand words or something.  Anyway, he uses the employees in printing to get the papers circulated.  He has two men there and probably has a dozen more outside transmitting their own code.  Since Graham's articles and mine came along, we've broken the chain a bit, so Jones only sends code out in the weekend editions.  Neither of us have articles then.  He gets most of his work done through those means.  Basically, if he isn't stopped, something horrible is going to happen, if not here, then somewhere else.  Dicky suggested that we come to you posing as reporters until we could pull you in.  Jones probably knows Donovan, and we figured that if we came to you, he would assume he was free to do whatever he wanted.  Now the game is getting tricky.  It won't take long for Jones to start suspecting us, if he isn't already onto us now."  _Especially since you've wrapped yourself around Donovan's body_.  "If we lose now, a lot of work will be shat down the tubes, and Dicky's crew has been working on this longer than I have."

"What's the game plan," Alex asked.

She wanted to defer to Dicky on that, but the fucker didn't want to speak.  _Stupid fuck.  He's probably pissed off because I'm quitting_.  "There are two openings at the paper.  One is for an executive secretary and the other is in the mailroom.  The mailroom is conveniently located near printing.  I'm sure with a profiler and a computer genius, you can come up with the perfect credentials that will suit Jones to a tee.  So, I suppose this is where Jonella Paxton shuts the fuck up and gives the floor to Donovan."

"We don't know the full names of the men in printing," Donovan began, "we need to access all personnel files at the paper.  We're looking for two specific names:  Louie and Abram.  It's not much to go by, but it's all we have on these men."  He nodded toward Cody.  "You know what to do, Agent Forrester."  He settled his eyes on Monica next.  "Set up the perfect personnel files for Jake and Alex.  The two of you will have to choose who goes where.  In the next two weeks, the both of you have to be inside that paper, learning its inside workings.  If Jones is sending out code, something big is going down."  Once again, he focused his attention on Cody.  "Oh, Cody, before I forget…find out some information about a Literville Warehouse.  It's a location mentioned in today's paper."

The team lingered only a few moments longer.  Dicky and Graham lagged behind.  By this time, Pax had boosted herself onto the conference table and was looking at her transcription to ensure she hadn't left something out.  Donovan stood off to the side with his eyes fixed on Graham.  He didn't know what the big deal was, but he noticed that the young agent was staring at him every once in a while with a bizarre little smile on his face.  Odd.  Did he still think Pax was supposed to keep the façade of his lover?  Dicky and Graham gave a few last details to Pax and then excused themselves.  As soon as Cody had the information and Monica the personnel files, there wasn't much else they could do.  Pax was only hanging around to find out what the Literville Warehouse was.  It was befuddling her as much as he.  

Pax started to jump off the table until Donovan approached, stopping her.  "Your partner, Graham, he knows the game is over, doesn't he?"

Curiously, she gazed at him.  "I think he knew it was over the minute he saw you in my office.  Why do you ask?"

His brow furrowed.  "I don't know," he said and drew the side of his bottom lip into his mouth for a very brief moment.  "He was acting a little strange, that's all."

She nodded.  "Yeah, he would.  Since that first day, he's been digging around for information regarding our relationship.  He has come out and asked, actually.  He's a nosy little fuck.  It's no big deal."  She saw the concerned look on Donovan's face.  "Hold up.  What is it?  You think _Graham_ is doing something naughty?"

"Not sure," he said, "but I think it would be worth investigating, just to be safe.  It won't be difficult for me to access his file."

"Do what you need to do, but I think Graham's okay.  He's a little witless prick fucker, but he's not half bad."

He smiled a little.  "_Finally_, you've found someone else to peg a witless fuck who isn't me," he said.

She took a handful of his shirt and brought him up close.  She kissed him gently, her teeth nipping his bottom lip before she pulled away.  "You're only a witless fuck to me when we're in bed."

He chuckled against her lips, kissing her back just as gently.  "Is that right?"

"Mmm hmm."

"_Ahem_."  

Donovan turned and faced Cody.  "If we can have five minutes, I've got you hooked up," Cody said.

"Good."  Donovan presented his hand to Pax and they walked over to the expanse of computers.  "Jesus.  I didn't realize the paper would have so many people.  Have you narrowed it down any?"

"Uh, give me a second," Cody said as he began tapping keys.  "Wait a minute.  Louie Stemple and Abram Sekher.  They're the only two matches.  They have to be our guys."  He tapped a few more keys.  "And as for the Literville Warehouse…well…okay, that's bizarre."

"What is it," Donovan said, leaning over Cody.

"Literville is the name of a 'blink your eye and miss it' town in southeastern Missouri, population five hundred sixty," he said.

"How easily could the town be accessed?"

He tapped yet more keys.  "Well, there is an airport in Kansas City, but it appears that you'll either have to find a crop duster or a rental car to get you to Literville.  It's a drive and a half, I'll warn you now."

Donovan waved him off.  "Make reservations at the end of next week for Agent Paxton and I.  I'll handle the red tape.  When you have that cleared, find the CIA files of one David Graham."

"Would you like me to name my firstborn Frank," Cody grumbled under his breath.

Pax lingered with Cody long enough to get the scoop on Graham.  As she expected, there was nothing on him that she didn't already know.  She went up to Donovan's office.  "Nothing on Graham," she said.

"Good.  I think we still need to watch him, though," he said offhandedly.

"Damn it, Frankie, you're so damn suspicious all the time," she said.

He looked up at her.  "It's how I've stayed alive through all this."  He shut off his computer and approached her.  He took her hand in his.  "I'm sending everyone home.  It looks like we're good until next week."  He tugged on her hand.  "Come on."

*  *  *

It was a little cool, but the day was sunny.  After Donovan sent the rest of the team home until Monday, he picked up his daughter at Renata's.  Instead of going home, he drove them out to the park.  Pax sat her ass flat on a park bench with her elbows on her knees and watched Donovan playing with his daughter.  She didn't know how he could maintain such different personalities.  Away from his child, he was all business.  With her, he was a goofy dad.  At one point, Stasia took off running with Donovan on her heels.  She was squealing happily with her little two-year-old lungs and Donovan was playfully growling at her as if he were a grizzly bear.  Stasia was coming up a little too fast to the park bench and if she didn't slow down, she was going to bonk her head.  Donovan was calling for her to stop, but her forward momentum was carrying her onward.  Before she ran headfirst into the metal bench, Pax reacted and grabbed her up.

"Whoa, there, Blondie.  You were about to get a knot on your head," Pax said.

The sudden movement startled her and she began to cry.  Donovan caught up at that point.  "Is she okay," he asked.

So very hurt and shattered, the little girl took her comfort anywhere she could get it, even from the tall spoon lady.  She wrapped her little arms around Pax's throat and squalled as if she had lost a limb.  "She's okay.  She nearly ran into the bench, but I caught her," Pax said.  "She's more scared than anything."

He gently caressed the back of Stasia's head.  "Baby?  Want to come to Daddy?"

She fixed her violet eyes on his face.  There were big tears in them and her bottom lip was trembling.  "Want Dayee," she huffed.

Pax handed her over to Donovan and she wrapped her arms around his neck, squalling even louder.  He walked with her over to the bench and sat down, Pax following his lead.  After a moment or two, she settled down and quickly forgot her scare of the day.  She crawled down on Donovan's lap and glanced at Pax.

"Staddie head knot," she asked.

Pax smiled at her a little.  "Yeah, Stasia almost got a knot."

"Bad bence," she cried, wrinkling her nose in disgust.  "Bad, bad bence."  She tilted her head and gazed at Pax.  "Staddie see you?"

Donovan noted Pax's confused look.  "She's asking if you'll hold her in your lap," he said.  With his eyes, he transmitted, _if it's too painful, you don't have to do it_.

She nodded as if telling him that she could handle it.  "Sure, Blondie," she said as she turned toward Donovan and held out her arms.  When she felt the weight of the child settling against her, she wasn't sure she could do it.  However, the painful images began to slide back and away.

Stasia climbed onto her lap and zoned in on the silver ring.  "Ooooh," she said, fascinated.  "Pity.  Dat?"

Her eyes met Donovan's.  Without looking away, she said, "It's my engagement ring."

**____________________**

**To be continued…**  


	9. An Engaging Trip

AN ENGAGING TRIP

Pax groaned and cursed incoherently toward Donovan.  He had hit a bump in the road while driving eternally toward the half-assed no population town known as Literville.  She'd been trying to sleep for the last hour and a half.  Pax felt as irate and as irritated as a three-year-old.  _When are we going to be there?  When can we stop?  Jesus jumping Christ on a fucking camel, my ass hurts.  I have to stretch my legs.  Why is he being so mean to me_?  At the airport in Kansas City, Donovan had secured a SUV, but there were so many potholes in the road that each one rocked her as if they were in a sorry ass old car with no shocks and struts.  Donovan was irritated a little himself.  He had done most of the driving and was as tired as Pax, but there was no way they could stop until they found Literville.  After that, they could find a hotel and crash for a while until they were rested enough to poke around.  Pax shot Donovan a dirty look before she sat up in the seat and glanced around at her environment.  The sun was shining in on her and nearly killing her sensitive eyes.  She grabbed her sunglasses from the dashboard and slipped them on.  There was nothing around them but miles of highway and reddish clay bluffs.  There was also some funky looking foliage scattered about that was pinkish in color.*  _Goddamn, this is a weird ass place_.  Sighing, she stretched her legs and crossed her arms over her chest.  She might fall asleep again if her asshole lover didn't hit another pothole in the next fifteen or twenty minutes.  She closed her eyes behind her sunglasses again and it didn't take long for her to fall asleep.  She didn't know what it was about traveling, but it always seemed to knock her on her ass.  _THUD_.  Jesus, another fucking pothole.  

Pax sat up suddenly.  "Goddamn.  I suppose I might as well try to stop sleeping, hadn't I?  I think you're hitting those fucking potholes on purpose."  She fixed her eyes on him stonily.  She didn't care if he could see them or not.  The fucker knew she was pissed.  "Is that the case, Sweetie," she asked sarcastically.

He glanced at her with a smug little smile on his lips.  "Could very well be.  Actually, since we're taking roads off the main highway, I have nothing to do with the condition of them.  If you'd volunteer to drive for a while, maybe _I_ could get some sleep as well?  Perhaps then, I'd be less inclined to go right for the potholes?"

"Fat fucking chance.  You don't want me behind the wheel."

Donovan checked for traffic behind him and pulled over to the side of the road.  He couldn't drive another second.  He had to take a break.  Pax said nothing as Donovan put the SUV in park before he climbed outside.  She closed her eyes again.  _Maybe this time I can **really** sleep_.  Donovan examined the terrain around him.  It seemed as if there was nothing ahead of them but more road, bluffs, and weird pink plants.  Although he had seen the name of the town on the map, he began to wonder if Literville existed at all.  _How damn much further will we have to drive_?  He walked back toward the SUV and climbed inside.  He thought Pax would still be asleep, but she wasn't.  She was tempted to get out and stretch her legs a little as well.  However, she was too damn tired.  She unhooked the seatbelt and yawned dramatically.  She leaned her elbow against the headrest and propped her head upon it.

"Please tell me we can stay here for a minute," she grumbled.  "I don't want to move for another half hour."

"I never thought I'd hear you whine," he said with a smile.  "We can kill some time if you want.  I'm in no hurry to start driving right away, but I would like to find this town before it gets dark."  She grumbled again, this sounding like another curse.  He smiled a little and shook his head.  Some things would never change.  He worked the seat back as far as it would go to make some extra legroom.  He slid his hand into the pocket of his jeans.  _Good time or not_?  Sighing, he shrugged his shoulders.  _What the hell_?  He reached over and ran his hand gently up and down her arm.  "Jonella?"  She didn't move a muscle, only mumbled something incoherently that may have been 'hmm?'  "I'm sure we're a few hours away from a decent hotel and a nice meal, but I'm getting a little impatient."

_What the fuck is he talking about_, she wondered when she looked at him.  His hand was still gently touching her arm, but there was something he had added to his pinkie finger that hadn't been there a few minutes before.  She decided to pretend she didn't see it and was certain he didn't think she did.  "What the hell are you talking about, Frank?  Goddamn it, I was just getting to sleep."  Stealthily, he brought his hand around to grasp hers.  His pinkie was visible to them both.  She didn't know whether to smack him or jump him right then and there.  _He promised not to push it.  He's pushing, though, and the fucker knows it._

Donovan ran his thumb along the silver band on her finger.  "I know you don't want to marry me and I respect that.  I love you, Jonella, will you at least agree to come live with me…and maybe we could…ah…be perpetually engaged?  I have a real engagement ring this time, not just a cheap piece of silver."

Pax tore her eyes off Donovan's face and fixed them on the ring circling the middle of his pinkie finger.  It was a princess cut diamond with two baguette stones on each side.  The diamonds were set on a plain white gold band.  It was really beautiful and she was more than touched.  She was actually pretty fucking chocked up.  She slid her left hand from beneath his.  "It's beautiful," she said, "but I'm not letting go of the silver.  If I can keep it, I'll accept your _other_ ring."

He smiled a little.  "I wouldn't have it any other way."  She reached for the ring, but he drew his hand back.  "Will you let me?  Must you have control over everything?"

"Look who the hell is asking," she said with a smirk.  

"Damn you, Jonella," he grumbled.  

He took hold of her left hand and pulled her around to face him.  His lips met hers softly, but the kiss deepened after a few seconds.  With his lips still joined with hers [she had no idea how he managed to do shit that he couldn't see], he withdrew his hand from hers and somehow managed to get the ring off his pinkie finger using his other fingers to assist.  He didn't break away from her once as he slid the ring onto her finger until it met the silver band.  Once the task was complete, his hands moved up to cup her face.  His insistent tongue probed her mouth, seeking hers, and entwined with it.  God, he couldn't believe she consented to take his ring.  It wasn't something he expected in a billion years.  She broke the kiss first, drawing away and taking his hands down from her face.  Goddamn how fair was it to love like this?  It wasn't supposed to happen to her, but here she was, kissing this man she loved, and wearing his fucking engagement ring.  She had sworn she would never accept a marriage proposal, but she had taken his ring.  Wasn't that the same damn thing?  Perpetually engaged indeed.  Sneaky sexy assed fucker.  He'd tricked her again.

"I think we should hit the road again, especially if we want to make it to our destination before nightfall," he said, a glimmer of mirth sparkling in his eyes.

"You tricked me," she said, astonished.

He cocked his eyebrow curiously.  "Did I?"  He dragged his seat forward and brought the SUV to life.  "You're probably right, but it worked, didn't it?"  He smiled at her.  "It's okay, I don't expect you to set an immediate wedding date, but June would be nice."

*  *  *

The sun was just beginning to set when they finally saw the sign for Literville, Missouri [population 560, just as Cody had said].  Pax began to grumble again.  Donovan had heard her utter 'it's about damn time' twelve times or more.  He wasn't irritated; he actually agreed with her.  Hell yes, it was about damn time.  He never wanted to see a bluff or a funky pink plant again for the rest of his life.  They drove around only a few miles, because if they tooled around after dark, the city constable might haul their big city asses to the clink.  They didn't find anything close to a warehouse.  Donovan turned around and drove them back toward the largest town within close vicinity.  They had passed a motel on their way to Literville.  By the time they headed back, both were cranky, hungry, and tired.  When they approached the city limits of Napo, Missouri [population 2500], there was only one motor court-type motel and about a dozen convenience stores.  They simply hoped there was a vacancy, and their hopes were met with the right answer.

As soon as they entered the room, Pax started stripping.  Donovan watched her with a gaped open mouth.  She looked back at him with a smile.  "I have to take a shower.  If I don't, I'm going to die."

He closed the door.  "I thought you would have waited until the door was closed.  Take your shower; I'm more interested in food.  Don't rush, I'll be back soon."

Pax was greedy.  She stayed underneath the hot spray of water for as long as she could.  She gave not one thought to Donovan's need.  Hell, he didn't deserve it after the awful trick he played on her.  Eventually, the guilt was too much to handle and she reached out and killed the water.  Just outside the room, she heard the television.  What the hell would he be watching out here in Nowhere, USA?  She came out of the shower, still dripping, and peeked around the door.  She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle the laughs.  Donovan was kicked back on the bed with a gigantic bag of potato chips.  She thought they were _Lays_.  Without announcing her appearance, she came out of the bathroom and unceremoniously jumped in the big middle of Donovan, straddling his waist. 

"Uh, Jonella," he said as if the wind was knocked out of his lungs.  "You're dripping all over me and the bed."

She gazed down at the bag in disgust.  "Potato chips, Frank?  You brought me fucking potato chips?"

"Not easy to find filet mignon in a town this size.  I'm sorry to disappoint," he said with a smile.  "Would you move?  You're blocking the television."

She turned her head toward the dim screen and saw several muscle bound men slamming each other around a ring.  "Jumping Jesus on a fucking camel, Frankie.  You are _not_ watching wrestling!  Who the hell is that anyway?"

"I don't know…some guy they call the Rock or something," he said.

Donovan groaned again [_uh_] as Pax leaned over him to grab the remote control.  "We cannot have this."  She sat up without shifting her position and flicked a button until she found what she wanted.  He couldn't see the screen, but he could hear it.  She had managed to find an adult channel.  "Now that," she said as she bent to kiss him, "is more like it."

The sound of the people on the television was getting to him, tweaking his nerves.  Within moments, he began laughing against her lips.  She leaned up and looked down at him.  "God, Jonella," he said between guffaws, "turn it off.  I can't compete!"

"I'm sure you could and would win," she said.  "But if you insist, I'll shut it down."  She shut off the television, throwing both the remote and the bag of chips onto the floor.  After that, her hands began to work the buttons loose on his shirt.  "I have to get you out of these clothes before you catch your death."

He shifted his body enough where he could sit up.  He leaned on one arm behind him as his other went around her bare waist.  "And whose fault is that?"

"I take the blame," she said with a smile.  "I'll take _all_ the blame."  

She worked the shirt over his shoulders.  Her lips immediately went to his bare skin, her teeth nibbling at his flesh, tasting it.  As he felt her sliding his shirt down one arm, he worked it free and out of its confines.  Once he was free on one side, he helped her with the other.  The shirt joined the remote and potato chips on the floor.  As her mouth and teeth continued their assault on his shoulder, his hand moved over her hair.  Damn her for not drying it first.  He loved touching it, plunging his hands into it whenever he kissed or made love to her.  It was more difficult like this.  _Next time_.  He tried to shift her slightly so he could kiss her, but she wasn't cooperating.  Actually, she was beginning to bite him pretty damn hard.  She moved, only to flick her tongue over his lips and barely between them.  When he tried to press forward, she backed away.  She planted her hand firmly in the middle of his chest and pushed him back to the bed.  He watched as she slid down his body just the slightest bit to work on the snap and zipper of his jeans.  Once opened, she came off his body to lean over him.  

Her tongue flicked out and teased his lips again.  Her hand, which had been resting firmly against the middle of his chest, began to progress slowly downward.  His jeans were tight and damp, making her task difficult, but she managed to slip her hand inside the opening.  Her hand fell upon him, not light or loose at all.  In fact, she was going at it pretty damn fast and hard.  This was done without the benefit of his being unclothed.  He reached down and took hold of her arm.  She slipped her arm out of his grip and made a 'tsk tsk' sound.  What the hell was she doing to him?  Her mouth followed the same trail down as her hand a few moments ago, and when she reached the top of his opened jeans, she stopped.

"For this one," she said, "I may need your help."

"Jonella, what the hell…"

"Shh," she hissed and then bit the sensitive flesh of his lower abdomen.  "Just help me out here.  We'll talk later."

He sat up and helped her rid him of his jeans and briefs.  Thank God he had already taken off his shoes.  At that point, he was ready to be inside her.  He went for her again, but she pushed him back down.  Pulling her wet hair over one shoulder, her mouth once again moved from his chest downward.  He felt the push of her breath and the hint of her touch.  Her tongue fluttered over him with little pressure.  She heard his sharp intake of breath and frustrated growl when she moved away.

"_Jonella_," he called harshly.

"Shh," she hissed again as she ran her tongue from one end to the other.  "What was it you told me?  Just shut up," she said softly.  "Shut…up."  

She slid her body back up the length of his and she left a trail of nibbling bites along the way.  When she was face to face with him again, she looked down into his dark eyes.  They seemingly asked _what are you doing to me_?  She smiled down at him, wondering if she should let him kiss her or make him suffer.  She knew she wouldn't let him touch her, not just yet.  Without taking her eyes off his, her hand moved back down, where her caress had gone from fast and hard to slow and loose.  She wanted to see the look on his face as he was experiencing a different kind of torture.  His lips were drawn into a snarl and his teeth were clenched.  Every few seconds, he took in sharp, hissing breaths.  She smiled a little, she had heard this many, many times.  She leaned down just a little and he leaned up toward her, literally demanding with his eyes that she accept his kiss.  Instead of giving him what he wanted, she teased him again, just flicking her tongue in and out.  When he reached for her, she would increase the pressure of her caress and he'd lose his strength just a little, falling back to the bed.  Snarl/hiss, snarl/hiss.  

"I know you're not going to beg.  A man like you won't, he doesn't need to," she whispered as she flicked her tongue over his parted lips, listening to snarl/hiss, snarl/hiss.  "I can feel you against my hand.  If I don't stop, the game ends right here, doesn't it?  Well, baby, I think we need to celebrate, don't you?  Hmm…right now, are you rethinking the perpetual engagement thing?  Are you sure you want to live with this…perpetually?"  He said nothing.  Snarl/hiss.  Snarl/hiss.  "Sure you do.  I'm wearing your rings."  She flicked her tongue out again.  "This may be our last night together like this for a while.  I do want to enjoy it.  Don't you?"  Snarl/hiss and an imperceptible sound [maybe _uh huh_].  She moved her hand off him and he was finally able to breathe normally.  "Despite what I just did, Frankie, I do love you."

Pax finally leaned down enough and allowed him to give her the kiss he wanted.  It was hungry, deep, and possessive.  He ached to take control, to be inside her, but she still wasn't giving over to him.  She broke the kiss after a few breath-taking moments and moved to straddle him again.  She settled herself right against him and he growled out her name again.  If she moved a half-inch either way, he could thrust into her and end this once and for all.  However, she knew this and wouldn't budge.  Her hands moved up from his chest to his face.  She gazed down at him, eating up his desire filled eyes.

"Tell me you love me," she said.

His hands came up to her waist.  "Jonella, you know I do," he said.

"I know, but say it.  Say it before I make love to you."

"I love you," he said, his hands drifting over to her breasts.

"I love you, too," she whispered.

She raised her body the slightest bit and slid him inside her.  Laying her body directly over him, she grabbed onto his shoulders as his hands grasped her buttocks.  Any other time, she might have kept the moves slow and easy.  Tonight wasn't the night.  Donovan dug his fingers into her flesh, nearly slamming her body against his.  She had teased and held out on him too long.  Her movements began to match his.  In relative short order, her body quaked against his and her movements stopped for the briefest of moments.  She cried out just a little and he urged her on.  Of course, it didn't take much urging at all.  

"Uh God," she moaned.  

Pax released her hold on his body and arched hers up and back.  She anchored herself a bit more firmly by placing the palms of her hands onto the solid muscle of his abdomen.  She moved against him harder and faster, not pausing even when she felt climax after climax.  She looked down at Donovan's face.  Oh, he was fighting it so hard.  His face was set and determined, he kept a steady snarl/hiss with each thrust.  In.  Out.  Up.  Down.  Oh, he fought and fought and fought.  He had never liked giving up, even in bed.  Ah, but eventually all battles must come to an end.  With one final thrust and an almost tortured groan, his body tensed and ceased all movement.  She collapsed on top of him, her cheek against his chest.

"Mmm.  I can't believe you did this to me," he said, his voice low and exhausted.

"And you think you know me," she asked, her voice muffled against him.

He chuckled.  "Okay, I'll amend it.  I _can_ believe you did this.  Damn it, Jonella, there are certain buttons I hope you never stop pushing."

She kissed his chest.  "I'm sure there are many that I won't.  When all the blood rushes back to your brain, go to sleep.  We have a buttload of shit to do tomorrow."

"Who's the lead agent here," he asked, amused.

"Last I checked, Agent Donovan, it was I.  Go to sleep, tomorrow we're going to find some food.  The only lays I want are in bed."

**____________________**

**To be continued…**

***A/N:  Once while driving from Kansas City, Missouri back home, all I saw on either side of the road was red bluffs and these funky looking pinkish bushes.  I had no idea what they were then and I have no idea what they are now.  If someone does, please tell me!  All I know is that I got soooooo sick of seeing them!  HA!  **                 


	10. Literville Woes

LITERVILLE WOES

Pax awakened the next morning, feeling as if she had a hangover.  Donovan didn't appear to be in the room with her, and she couldn't hear the shower running.  She hoped he had gone out for some real food and coffee.  If she didn't have coffee, she might die.  She sat up and realized that she was a mess.  She had just taken a shower last night, and would need another this morning.  Of course, spending a night making love to Donovan was worth the time and trouble.  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and her foot crunched down on the bag of potato chips.  Half grumbling, half laughing, she toed the bag out of her way and hit the shower before Donovan returned.  When she stepped out twenty minutes later, she felt tons better and had herself almost put together for the day ahead.  Donovan had just come in, resplendent in a copper pullover shirt and brown denim jeans.  Curiously, she watched as he laid out two paper cups of coffee and saran wrapped sandwiches that looked like sausage and biscuits.  _God, at least it isn't potato chips and soda pop!_  Without a word, she approached the small table and reached for a cup.

"Wait a second," Donovan admonished, smacking her hand.  "That's mine.  Yours is the decaf."

"The hell you say," she said and reached for the cup.

He smiled a little.  "The hell I _do_ say."  He took hold of her arm and pulled her close.  He placed a gentle kiss on her lips.  "Get dressed, _Jaeleah_, we have a complicated day ahead of us."

"Stupid fuck," she grumbled under her breath as she made for her duffel bag.  She continued to mumble and curse as she slipped into jeans and a dark blue pullover sweater.  She impatiently twisted her hair into a messy French twist and secured it with one of her industrial strength clips.  When she turned back around, Donovan was seated at the small table drinking coffee and solemnly eating his biscuit.  She noticed the glum look on his face and was tempted to laugh, but she wasn't in the mood for an ass whipping.  Pax approached the table, pulled out a chair, and flipped it backward.  She straddled it and chose to ignore her coffee and biscuit.  "So, Boss, what's the game plan today?"

He laid down the greasy biscuit, finding it distasteful as hell, and wiped his hands and mouth.  "Boss?  That's new."  He took a sip of coffee and sighed, "Basically, we go back into Literville and look for that damn warehouse, if one even exists.  I want us to find a way inside to see what Jones and his friends are into."  He took another sip of coffee and became silent for a moment.  This next bit might piss her off, but he had no choice but to bring it up.  "I know we do things differently than Dicky and his bunch, but I want to wire you for sound the same as when my other agents go out.  When or if we find this place, we'll likely have to split up.  Without the gear, I have no way of knowing if you're okay, and Cody is defenseless and cannot offer any assistance.  We'll be directly linked to Chicago this way."

She looked over at him curiously.  "Jesus, Donovan, you act like I became an agent two days ago.  I know all about this internal hook up shit."

"I know you do," he said with a sigh, "but I don't want you running off without checking in, do you understand?  You've always worked solo, but this time you're with a team, and that means you don't do things without backup."  She was about to say something smart, but he pushed her coffee and biscuit toward her.  "Don't argue with me right now.  Shut up, eat your greasy biscuit, and drink your decaf."

She smirked at him.  "I'd rather have some lays."

He smiled a little.  "Maybe later."

*  *  *

Still tired and out of sorts, they climbed into the SUV and drove toward Literville.  Pax listened vaguely to Donovan as he barked a few things here and there over his cell phone to Cody.  She watched yet more scenery whip by with the weird red bluffs and pink plants.  Just before something went down, Pax had always shut down before going into a strange blank mode.  She had done that from day one and had mastered it when she began working with the Angels.  However, today, her mind was somewhere else.  She was jumpy as always, but wasn't normally like this.  At first, she couldn't identify the feelings rushing into the pit of her stomach.  It didn't dawn on her until she settled her eyes on the engagement ring.  _Jesus fucking Christ.  I'm scared and worried…I'm worried about…Frank?  _God.  Had she ever thought she'd be worried about him ever in her life?  _Ew ew ew ew ew.  I must really and truly love this witless fuck sitting beside me._  Without thinking, she reached out and clasped his right hand.  He took his eyes off the road for a brief moment and glanced at her.  He gave her a smug little smile.  _Fucker knows he has me wrapped around his fucking little finger now_.

Donovan drove them slowly into the town of Literville, noticing that it was just as dead in the daytime as it was at night.  There was an abandoned looking service station in the heart of town, or rather it looked like it might have been a hundred years ago.  Around the station, other old buildings lurked, most of those had their windows broken out.  They appeared to lean against each other for support as if they were aged soldiers.  Their eyes didn't identify anything that might have made a nodding acquaintance to a warehouse.  Sighing in disgust, Donovan pulled into the station, hoping like hell that someone was inside it.  Otherwise, they'd have to take every dirt rode in the county, and he was in no hurry to attempt that.  He had barely gotten out of the SUV when a short, dumpy man came out of the station.  He was an elderly fellow decked out in oil stained overalls and had a cap shoved down on his head.  Donovan watched, amused, as the man pulled a red bandana out of his pocket and sneezed into it.  He stuffed it back into his pocket and gazed up at the tall stranger.

"Help ya," he asked.

"Yes, sir, you can," he said.  He glanced back at the SUV and then fixed his eyes on the man again.  "My wife and I are lost.  We were looking for my in-laws.  They told us they live close to the Literville Warehouse.  Would you know it?"

The man made a rumbling noise deep in his chest before he hawked up and spat into the dirt.  Donovan had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek.  He thanked God and all the higher powers that Pax was inside the SUV.  "A haiouse?  Out by the wairehoiuse?  Mister, are you sure yer in-laws ain't yanking yer chain?  The only haiouse out that way is all tore up.  Oh, lawda mercy.  Bad tornader tore into that thang done gone five damn years."

Donovan chewed even harder on his cheek.  "Sir, I can assure you that they told me they live near that area.  Would you mind telling me where to find it?  Even if we have the wrong area, it would give my wife and I a chance to look around."

He shook his head and hawked up again.  "Mister, you shore are wastin' yer time, but if'n you wanna go out that way, I cain't stop ya.  Turn back to the layft.  Once you do that, yer gonna go down…oh…half a mile er so.  Hang ya a rite.  Go down 'nother five er seven miles.  You'll see a tall silo…that's where we store grain up in these parts…at that silo, hang ya a 'nother rite.  The wairehoiuse will be standing off'n to the layft.  The only hoiuse out thar is big 'n wite and tore all to sheeyet."

"Thank you, sir," Donovan said as he tried to remember the directions.  He would relay them to Pax and she could navigate while he drove.  Donovan started to walk off, but the man called him back.

"Hey?  Fella?  Are you that guy who wuz on them Mummy movies?"

Donovan smiled.  "No, he just looks like me."  He turned and moved toward the SUV and climbed back inside.  He handed Pax a pad and a pen.  "Take this down before I forget.  Left from here and then down half a mile.  Turn right.  Go down five or seven miles to a silo and turn right.  The warehouse is on the left."  After Pax finished writing furiously, he brought the SUV to life.  He looked at Pax and smiled.  "He was quite a character.  Glad you weren't out there.  By the way, do you think I look like that guy on the Mummy movies?"

She tilted her head and glanced at him.  "Hell no.  He's hot.  You're just…sexy."

Donovan laughed as he put the SUV in gear and pulled out onto the blacktop road.  Although the man was a character and a half, his sense of direction was wonderful.  He pulled the truck over to the side of the road and killed it.  Together, they left the vehicle and Donovan opened the back.  While Donovan dug around, Pax scanned the area.  If anyone had binoculars, they could easily be seen, but it would take someone a bit to get here.  She couldn't see anything for miles.  Just when she was about to demand a set of binoculars, Donovan thrust them toward her.  She looked around again and saw nothing.  

"Anything," Donovan asked.

"Nope.  Nothing."

"Gear up.  I'll watch.  When you're finished, you can take your turn."

It took approximately fifteen minutes for them to get set up.  They had donned the earpieces and were strapped before they stopped.  "Cody?  Are you there?  Can you hear me?"

"Sure thing, Boss."  His voice seemed tiny and a billion light-years away.  "I can hear Pax breathing, so I assume she's juiced as well."

Pax sighed.  "Oh hell, Forrester, don't tell me heavy breathing gives you a hard-on?"

Keeping close watch, they approached the warehouse as if they were simply poking around.  Again, they didn't doubt that the area was being monitored closely.  However, they hoped they had enough time to poke around before being caught.  The warehouse was large and rambling and it appeared to have two floors.  The door was bolted shut, of course, but Pax found a low window.  Before he could utter a single word, she took a rock and burst the damn thing.  The loud crashing of glass reverberated around them like a sonic boom.  

"What the hell are you doing," Donovan hissed.

"If someone is here, Frankie, it doesn't matter _how_ we get in, now does it?  Quit bitching at me and get your ass over here."

"Cody," Donovan said, "Do you detect any movement with the tracking device?"

"Nope, Boss, all clear, even after the shot heard around Missouri."

Donovan climbed in after Pax.  The only light filtering in was from the broken window.  He took his set of night vision binoculars and brought them up.  All around him were wooden crates of every shape and size known to man.  "Move right," he called to Pax.  He had seen crates like these before.  There were weapons in them, dozens… _hundreds_.  He didn't want to imagine what else lay within.  "Pax?  What do you see?"

"Jesus," she said, her voice drifting into his ear.  "Wooden crates.  Frankie?  Are these what I think they are?"

"Yeah.  Cody, we've found a stockpile of weapons.  They're all over the bottom floor.  There's hardly any room to walk around."  He glanced at one of the crates and saw a bizarre etching on its surface.  It looked like a seal of some sort, one that a royal family would have.  "Pax?  I want to hear from you every three minutes; do you understand?  I don't care if it's to curse at me.  Just do it."

"Aye aye, _mon capitan_," she said.  "Tons and tons of crates, Frankie.  Weird looking shit on them.  Do you recognize it?"

"No."  He continued to move around the decreasing floor space.  He was coming close to a ladder.  Donovan peered up, but couldn't make out anything.  "Pax, keep checking in.  I'm about to step upstairs."  He climbed slowly but steadily up the ladder until he could see enough to boggle his mind.  More weapons.  These were more along the lines of armament type weapons.  Jesus.  He wondered if the town of Literville, Missouri had any idea what was being stored around here.  They were packed and ready to ship.  

"Still alive and kicking, Donovan," Pax said sarcastically.  "What do you see?"

"Enough to give me nightmares for two weeks.  Cody?  Is the perimeter still clear?"

"All clear, no movement."

"Call in the local police, FBI, or whatever, they have to seize this building before the end of next week.  Damn it.  I think I see rocket launchers."

"Frankie?  Is it time to get out of here yet?  This shit is freaking me out," Pax asked.

"What's this, Agent Paxton, are you losing your nerve?"

"Bite me, you fuck.  I can hear your heavy breathing, you don't like it, either."

"Uh, I hate to break into your lovers' quarrel," Cody began, "but I think your secret is out.  There is some movement outside, quickly approaching.  I can't be sure who it is, but I'd suggest you try to get out."

"Shit," Donovan hissed.  "Pax?  Where are you?"

"Not sure…maybe a few yards to the side and below.  Get down to the floor.  I hope we can hit the window on our way out."

"Uh, guys, I think you should duck and hide.  Company swiftly approaches and they don't seem to be the welcome wagon."

Quickly, Donovan came down off the ladder and as soon as his feet hit the floor, he ducked behind one of the wooden crates.  "Get down, Pax," he growled.  He could see her head bobbing around.  When she was totally out of sight, he moved lower and carefully drew his weapon out of its holster.  He listened to the rattling at the front door and heard a couple of voices complaining.  He had no idea how much time had passed since they received the warning from Cody.  "Check in, Pax," he whispered.

"I'm here," she hissed back.  "Fucking shut up."

The double doors came wide open and the gloomy warehouse was bathed in bright light.  Jesus, it cut into his eyes like a knife.  He didn't say a word, but he could hear Pax's steady breathing in his ear.  She was in her faraway mode, readying to strike.  Cody's voice told him that the authorities had been contacted, but wouldn't arrive for twenty minutes.  _Fucking great, we could be dead by then_, Donovan thought.  

"_Hvor er De? Vi vet at noen er her inne. Komm ut og vi dreper De ikke_," one of the voices called out. ["Where are you?  We know someone is in here.  Come out and we won't kill you."]

"_Tale English, Dutch. Vær ikke en idiot_," another voice said.  ["Speak English, Dutch.  Don't be an idiot."]

"Fucking Norwegian," Pax whispered in his ear.

"Wait," one said, "Did you hear that from over in the corner?"

Donovan heard the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking.  Jesus.  If she had kept her fucking mouth shut, they might have gone away.  _It's not Keith Ahiga, Pax.  He's in prison.  _He could move now or wait for them to get closer to Pax.  He was more than certain she was at the ready herself.  Before he made one move, he heard one of the men shouting, "here!  Here!  Over here!"  Gunfire rang out and Donovan wasn't sure if it were Pax or they.  He didn't ponder half a second.  He made his way around the packed in wooden crates, ensuring that he stayed out of sight.  The gunfire continued on and on in an endless barrage of roaring and echoing.  Donovan caught sight of a tall blond man.  His partner was the one who was apparently having the shootout with Pax.

"_Drop it_," he bit out.  "_I said to fucking drop it_."  The man didn't fucking drop anything.  Instead, he whipped around with his weapon at the ready.  Donovan fired a shot, hitting him in the center of his chest.  When the sound of the shot died down, he heard nothing but silence.  He couldn't hear anything, even Pax's steady breathing in his ear.  He checked his perimeter.  "How close is help, Cody," he asked harshly.

"Almost there, maybe five more minutes," he answered.

"Pax?  Check in."  Nothing.  "Pax?"  Nothing.  "_Goddamn it, Agent Paxton, I said to_ _check in_.  That's a direct order."

"A direct order from who?  God," she wisecracked through a groan, "Jesus, you don't have to yell at me.  I'm okay."

He sighed in relief.  "Tell me what's going on."

"I got one before he got me, but the fucker fell on me and I think I passed out a little.  He's dead, but I'm okay.  Where are you?"

"Stay where you are, I'll come to you," he said.  "Talk me over."  When he found her, she had boosted her body onto one of the wooden crates and left the dead man where he fell.  She had blood on her right side.  "Were you shot, Pax?"

She shook her head.  "Nope.  It's his."

In the distance, they heard the screaming of approaching sirens.  "Are you okay?"

She rolled her eyes.  "I told you I was fine.  Jesus, Donovan, give it a rest," she complained.

*  *  *

It took longer to get back to their motor court room than it did to get out to the warehouse.  The two men had slashed all four tires on the SUV.  Donovan glanced at Pax once they were seated in the truck.  Since they had walked out of the warehouse, he longed to _really_ look at her, to ensure that she hadn't been hurt.  He longed to kiss her, but neither of them was into PDA, especially with a crowd that large.  Tomorrow, they had to drive back to Kansas City and fly to Chicago.  Pax didn't say much on the ride back to the motel.  He knew she was focusing on the men and the language they spoke.  She was more than certain they had ties to Ahiga, but he thought it was a horrid coincidence.  When they entered their room, Pax said nothing.  She moved into the bathroom and turned on the shower.  He waited for about five minutes before he stripped down and joined her.  

She looked over her shoulder as he slid the curtain back.  She said nothing, didn't complain, didn't utter one single curse.  She turned her head away from him and focused her eyes on the tiles.  She stepped forward just a bit to accommodate his body.  She sighed when she felt the solid wall of his body pressing against her back.  He moved her hair over to one shoulder as his mouth found her skin.  The blood had soaked through her sweater and had gotten onto her arm.  The moment she felt his lips on her flesh, her body stilled and she clutched her washcloth loosely in her hand.  He smiled against her shoulder, recalling that this was the same position they had been in during the fake hit.  However, this time, the blood was quite real.  Then, she hadn't wanted his touch, but now, she longed for it.  His hand slid down her arm and took the cloth from her hand.  He washed away the blood, taking note of her arm, examining it for injuries.  There were none.  She was truly okay, as she had said a dozen or more times.  He turned her toward him, her wet hair obscuring one of her breasts.  

"There for a minute, I thought you were dead," he said.

"There for a minute, I thought I was," she said with a smile.  "So, is it later now?  Can I have my lays?"  

He smiled.  "We can work on it."

Donovan leaned down and kissed her, his insistent tongue demanding entrance to her mouth.  She parted her lips and allowed it inside where it swiftly met hers.  Before long, he'd backed her into the shower wall.  With his arms around her waist for support, she wrapped her legs around his.  He broke the kiss and gazed into her eyes.  "I love you," he said, "I never want you to curse in my ear again.  Do you understand?"

She looked up into his glistening eyes.  "Then you need to find yourself another woman."

"I'll keep the one I have," he said before kissing her again.

**____________________**

**To be continued…**


	11. The Call

THE CALL

When Donovan and Pax returned to Chicago, they learned that both Alex and Jake had secured jobs at the _Call_.  Alex was working in the mailroom and Jake as the executive secretary.  Donovan learned very little about Louie and Abram.  According to Alex, they were tight knit and didn't trust new people.  However, there were few doubts that something was going on.  Alex reported that the two men were often seen with their heads together.  On Jake's side, he often lunched either in the same room with Jones or ate with people who knew him.  Again, there was very little that was suspicious, even after word got around that a stockpile of munitions had been found in a small nowhere town in Missouri.  The three men acted as if nothing bothered them.  Jesus.  There had to be some crack in the foundation somewhere, some way to break in.  Donovan began to wonder if there weren't more people on the inside feeding them information.  When he thought about that, his mind drifted again to David Graham.  He hadn't trusted the man from the moment he met him, even when he knew that he and Pax weren't lovers.  _Knock it off, Donovan.  That's leftover jealousy.  There's nothing to your suspicions_.  Yet, he couldn't quite shake it away.  There was nothing on him.  Cody had checked and he had checked after Cody.  Where was the damn connection?  Who the hell else was inside?  Something simply did not add up.  Another thought entered his mind, one he hated to consider, but he couldn't prevent it from entering no matter how hard he tried.  _What if it's Pax?  No.  It can't be._  Couldn't it?  Couldn't it be just the _slightest_ bit possible?  _She's lied to you before, she may lie to you again_, an ugly voice pricked inside his head.  He couldn't keep the thoughts from rushing into his mind again and again.  What would happen if he asked?  _She would kick your ass, that's what.  How long did it take for her to accept your ring?  How long would it take for her to accept it again if you did something so wrong and so stupid?  _Goddamn it, but it _was_ a legitimate thought.  _No it isn't._

Donovan glanced at Pax.  She was leaned over the conference table looking at something that Dicky had brought in with him.  The diamond in her ring picked up every flash of light in the room.  More than one person had seen it, but none commented.  Last night and today, she had begun the process of slowly moving her things over to his place.  He couldn't believe that this woman whom he loved might be playing games again.  However, this time, there was much more at stake.  Jesus.  He didn't want to think about it, but couldn't drive it away.  Somehow, he would have to talk to her about this, but how in the hell could he approach it without driving her away?  Before he looked away, Pax caught his gaze and cocked her head curiously.  He was looking at her as if she had done something to offend him.  When he noticed her, he looked down and away.  _Does he think he's going to get away with that shit?  If so, he's got another fucking think coming._  As soon as she finished with Dicky and Graham, she approached where he sat.

"What the hell's going on, Donovan," Pax demanded.  "I saw what you just did.  What's on your mind?"

For a moment, he couldn't look at her.  "Not here, Pax."

"Then let's go to your place," she suggested.  "I know something is wrong."

"_Our_ place," he corrected absently.  He looked up at the other people in the room.  "We'll be back in a couple of hours."

They had been inside the apartment no longer than two minutes before Pax went into her automatic defense stance:  crossing her arms over her chest.  Donovan didn't know whether to sit or stand.  He decided to prop his body up on the arm of the couch.  Once he told her what was in his mind, she would kill him, and he hoped that he was wrong.  If he wasn't, he didn't know if he could take it.  _Please…not now…not after we've gotten this far_.  Donovan didn't know how to begin and he saw that Pax kept waiting and waiting and waiting.  Soon enough, she would demand that he begin talking.  Lost in thought, he had no idea that Pax was approaching him until she touched his arm.  He looked up at her.  Surely, his suspicions were wrong.  She wouldn't do this to him, not after everything that had happened between them.  He couldn't believe it, didn't believe it, but if he said nothing, he would never forgive himself.

"Jonella," he began, "I was thinking earlier that there has to be other people at the paper helping Jones and the printers.  If there weren't, we would have this case cracked.  No codes have been passed for a few weekends now.  At first, I thought it was tied into our discovery of the munitions building, but I don't think that's it.  I've checked out David Graham from the time he entered preschool until he was sworn in as an operative.  I've found nothing, but I can't shake this theory that someone isn't inside…"

Donovan didn't manage to get another word out.  Pax held up her hands in exasperation and cried out in disgust.  "You think it's me?  You think I'm the fucking double agent?  How could you, Frank?  _How fucking could you_?  Do you think everything that has happened in these last couple of weeks was a show?"  She backed away from him and gawped at him in utter surprise and horror.  Actually, part of her couldn't blame him for his suspicions; it was a pattern she had followed well in the past.  _But not now_.  "Jesus fucking Christ, Frank, I can't believe you.  I can't believe you'd do this to me, _think_ this of me.  Is this how much you trust me now?  _Is it_?  You talk this shit to me, ask me to move in with you, give me a fucking engagement ring, and you think I'm a double agent.  Goddamn you, Donovan.  _Goddamn you_."

Pax started toward the door, had her hand on the doorknob, but before she could open it, Donovan took hold of her arm and brought her around to face him.  As much as she had done in the past, she spat and clawed at him.  He couldn't blame her, couldn't even blame her if her foot connected with his groin.  Her behavior, markedly different when she was lying, told him all he needed to know.  He felt like a shit and again wondered how much damage he'd actually caused now.  "Jonella, wait."  Her eyes were flashing and had gotten even darker than they were before.  Mixed in with the anger was hurt, deep hurt.  "Please."  She was tempted to jerk her arm out of his hand and smack him, but she didn't.  He cautiously led her back toward the couch to sit her down.  He thought it a good sign that she'd allowed him to lead her over.  "I'm sorry."

Pax's teeth were gritted together and her jaws clenched.  She was too angry to cry.  "I don't blame you for thinking that it's me, but that was before…before…fuck it," she uttered.  "So, are you going to spend the rest of this assignment looking over my shoulder," she asked bitterly.  "Better still, will it be something you do on a regular basis around me?  I've given you hundreds of reasons not to trust me, but this was low, Donovan, lower than anything anyone outside Keith Ahiga has done to me.  Why didn't you just throw me into an interrogation room and have one of your agents smack me around until I confessed?  Well, fuck you, Frank Donovan, I don't need this, and I sure as shit don't need you."

He watched as she worked to rid her finger of both rings.  He took hold of her hand.  "No, Jonella, don't.  It hurts, I know, it's hurts me.  I don't enjoy pointing the finger at you, but it has to be somebody at the paper.  It's part of the reason why I brought you here instead of doing it there.  I knew from the moment you began to react that it wasn't true.  Kick me, beat me, give me a black eye, just don't leave."  He stared at her intensely for a few moments, giving her time to make her decision.  When she didn't move, he sighed.  "I also wanted to bring you here because there's something we should work out.  Since I have serious trust issues with both Graham and Dicky, I don't want them in on this.  I think we should do our own separate investigation without the benefit of their presence.  We can meet with the team privately and discuss what course of action we should take.  Whoever the person is, we must find him or her before Alex and Jake are harmed."  The look in her eyes hadn't changed.  She didn't give one ripe fuck about his theory or plan.  He'd cut her and cut deeply.  "Jonella…"

She turned away from him and stood.  She glanced down at her watch and stepped silently over to the door.  He came up behind her again.  "_Let me go_," she snarled through clenched teeth.  "I'm surprised you even trust me enough to tell me the plan."  

He reached out to touch her and waited for her to react violently as was her standard.  Instead, he felt her shoulders shaking just the slightest bit.  Jesus, he'd hurt her more than he thought.  _Duh, you stupid shit.  Of course you did.  What did you think?  She'd laugh it off and go on?_  Damn it.  He turned her unyielding body toward his and began kissing away her tears.  At the same time, he whispered 'I'm sorry' repeatedly.  Eventually, his mouth found hers and he kissed her deeply.  When he pulled away, there were tears still shining in her eyes.

"Jesus Christ," she whispered, "you put a ring on my finger and I become a fucking wimp," she said with a sigh.  "Let's do what we need to do.  I don't want to stand here all day and cry my damn eyes out."

She tried to push him away, but he resisted.  "Jonella?  Are you okay?  You're standing here with tears in your eyes, but you're reacting in the same flip way you always do.  Tell me you're truly okay before we go back."

"I am, Donovan.  I'm fine," she said.  "This was the worse thing I've ever gotten embroiled in, and I wish I could go back and tell Dicky where to stick it.  I know I've done it in the past, but I'd never betray you now or ever again."

*  *  *

As both teams knew, Bill Jones was a made up name.  His real name, given at birth, was Chris Weston.  Weston wasn't born in the Middle East, but he had a few ties here and there [as the team also suspected].  He wasn't necessarily interested in terrorism, per se, but he liked money.  He sat at his desk at the paper with three of his men at one of their special midnight meetings.  He was quite pissed that their munitions stockpile had been plundered by two nosy ass federal agents, who [surprise, surprise] were well known to him.  He had known immediately about the feds who were infiltrating his paper.  Of course, the Literville Warehouse was more of a dummy set up site than anything else.  It took attention away from the huge shipment of munitions that his guys were moving in two days.  Until then, they had to distract the feds with little piddling shit, a bite here and a bite there.  Once the shipment was sent and received, the agents would meet their ends swiftly and without mercy.  In fact, one of them had ties to Tore Raynor.  Weston sighed.  He missed Tore, as did his cousin sitting before him.  So, with one agent, revenge would be exacted twice.  She would die slowly.  Weston glanced at Sekher, Stemple, and Raynor.  They were eager to go to work, eager to wipe the world clean of the fucking federal agents.  

When Weston thought of Jaeleah Paxton, he sneered and felt the need to spit.  He had known of her true identity approximately twenty-four hours after she came to work for him.  Smiling a little, he'd also known of her partner as well.  One of his men came to him about a month after Paxton came and mentioned the presence of Frank Donovan in her office.  Of course, he knew of Paxton's tie to Donovan before he was given the news.  The day after Paxton's identity was revealed to him, he did his own extensive search and noted her past partners.  Then, he read about her role in taking down Tore Raynor with Frank Donovan's help.  Incredible.  How ignorant was the CIA to send in a stupid bitch who had ties to Frank Donovan?  Even with a new name and toned down personality, it was obvious.  She was as known as Donovan.  Psycho bitch agents were hard to forget.

The next thing to consider was how to separate Paxton from Donovan to get the deed done.  Perhaps Raynor could assist with that.  Onde Raynor wasn't as ruthless as his cousin, but he was quite persistent when the job called for it, and he was ready to avenge his cousin.  Tore was in prison now, his wife Ingrid was forced to take her sons back to Norway.  The hat for the family business had been handed down to Onde, and he didn't mind wearing it.  

*  *  *

Ironically enough, Donovan held a midnight meeting of his own.  Thinking that his and Graham's apartment were likely being watched, they met at a restaurant on the other side of town, arriving at different times of the night until everyone was seated at the stroke of midnight.  Donovan had been fairly closed mouthed about the purpose of the meeting, but when he called each of them, they were willing to jump to it.  Pax, paranoid, kept glancing over her shoulder watching and waiting for Dicky.  Neither he nor Graham would ever think to look for her at her place.  They knew she was moving in with Donovan.  However, it didn't mean they weren't watching.  They had trust issues with her as well.

Donovan leaned over and grabbed his mug of coffee.  "Someone else has to be working on the inside.  If not, the case would be cracked by now," he said, basically repeating what he had told Pax.  He took a sip of coffee and set the cup down.  "I'm not sure who it is, but I've been thinking of various different people."  _Including the woman you supposedly love, you prick_.  "This is why I didn't want either Dicky or Graham sitting in on this.  I don't think Dicky is involved, but Graham is a different story altogether.  I know we don't have anything on him, but someone has to be working on the inside, telling these people what we're doing."

Almost immediately, Pax felt four sets of eyes falling on her.  First she had had to work it with Donovan and now it appeared as if she was going to have to do it with them.  "Before you all get high and mighty, it's not me."  She fixed her dark blue eyes on Donovan's face for a moment before settling them on the team again.  "I've already gone through this once with your fearless leader and I won't go through it again, not with you.  Donovan is the only one I owe an explanation to, because I sure as shit owe you nothing."

Donovan glanced at her.  "Enough," he said.  "It's not Pax and I'm not sure it's Graham, but we have to find who it is before something happens to one of you.  They can't have meetings during the day.  It's too obvious.  They're probably meeting at night, maybe even midnight like we are.  So, we're going to have to get in and basically catch them at their game."

*  *  *

Donovan and Pax entered his apartment a little after two in the morning.  She was still out of sorts due to what happened earlier and at the meeting.  No matter what she said, she hadn't gotten over it at all.  She said little to him.  Instead, she entered the bathroom and stood at the sink.  She was trying to get the hot water started so she could wash her face.  Donovan came up behind her and placed his hands on each side of her hips.  She immediately turned off the water and leaned up into him.  A moment later, she felt his lips on the side of her throat.

"I don't think you're going to have enough room for my stuff," she said nonchalantly.  "I didn't realize how small this place was until I started bringing shit in."

"We could always find a bigger place," he said, his voice falling into her ear.

"I think we'll need one whole room for our weaponry alone," she said with a little smile.

He chuckled.  "You may have a point."  He drew away from her and turned her to face him.  "Jonella, I know today and tonight was rough for you.  My suspicions entered their minds.  I've hurt you beyond reason.  I don't know what I can do to make it up to you."

"Donovan, would you just drop it," she said, aggravated.  "It's over, forgotten.  I told you, I couldn't blame you for being suspicious of me.  I've given you more than one reason to feel that way.  Your team, on the other hand, are shits," she said with a smile.  "Well, I suppose they're okay.  I can be a bit of a shit myself."

"Uh uh, Jonella, _not you_," he called sarcastically with a wicked grin on his lips.  "Have I told you yet how happy I am that you're here with me?"

She lifted an eyebrow, probably mocking him.  "Goddamn, you're so fucking mushy sometimes.  I cannot fucking believe that I'm here in this position with you after the shit that went down between us in the jungle.  It makes no sense."

"We're different people, this is a different situation, and now, you don't disgust me," he said, his wicked grin expanding.

"You are such a shit," she said.

"I know."  He took her hand and pulled her forward.  "Come on.  Let's go to bed, I'm exhausted."

"Novel idea…sleeping in bed…wow," she wisecracked.

He glanced back at her.  "Who says we're sleeping?"

*  *  *

They had to keep the façade of their jobs in the daytime, so as Pax, Graham, Alex, and Jake took off to work, the rest of the team monitored as closely as possible.  At lunch [which Pax usually spent at the nest], she begged off and had a little personal mission of her own.  Since the warehouse thing, the seal on the wooden crates had disturbed her, and then when she heard the men speaking Norwegian, it was like a slap in the face.  She had seen that seal somewhere, she was sure of it.  Pax took off to the library to try and find the seal, but she had no luck.  By the time she'd finished at the library, her lunch break was over.  Frustrated, she went back to her office and plopped down at her desk.  What was it about that fucking seal?  Where had she seen it?  

Pax took in a sharp breath and shook her head in shock.  Dear Jesus.  She knew.  It came to her suddenly, like a flash of lightning in the night.  She picked up the phone, not giving one fuck if anyone saw and/or heard her.  She could hold her own with any of the fucks around here.  When Donovan answered, she didn't give him time to say anything, "Donovan, this isn't just a psychological thing for me.  This munitions shit has to do with that Ahiga fuck.  The seal on the crates, it was the same one on the front door of his home in Florida.  Whoever is working on this shit is related to him."

"Pax, are you sure," Donovan asked.

"What the fuck do you think, Frank," she bit out.  "I'm positive.  It's his family seal or some shit.  One thing you need to know about that fuck is that he's a pretentious asshole."

"Jonella, listen to me.  I want you out of there as soon as possible today.  I want you out of there right now; do you hear me?  Beg off, say you're sick, do something.  I need you back here immediately.  Can you do it?"

"I'll be there in half an hour."

While the entire conversation was happening, Onde Raynor stood patiently at Pax's office door with a little smile on his face.  Her back was to him and she hadn't seen him.  As soon as he heard her utter the words 'I'll be there in half an hour,' he approached the phone, slammed it down, and growled, "No you won't.  You'll be with me."

She fixed her dark blue eyes on his face.  "Mother-"

She didn't finish the insult.  He drew back and punched her, effectively knocking her out.  In about ten minutes, Weston would sound the fire alarm and he could then take Paxton out of the building.

**____________________**

**To be continued…**


	12. Eye Opening Experiences

EYE OPENING EXPERIENCES

Thirty minutes passed, then forty, then forty-five, and then an hour.  There was no sign of Pax anywhere.  _Where the hell is she_, Donovan wondered.  Impatiently, he went to the phone and called the paper.  He listened to the voice on the other end of the line and his jaw dropped slightly in shock.  Donovan stared down at the phone.  He was told that a fire alarm had gone off and the building was vacated.  Pax had never returned.  _Fuck.  Something happened to her.  Goddamn it_.  He made swift contact with Jake and Alex.  After that, he truly began to worry.  He called them back, just as he had called her back an hour ago.  Jesus.  Where was she?  Where the hell would he start looking for her?  _Pax?  Where the fuck are you_?  

*  *  *

When Pax regained consciousness, her mouth was gagged and her hands and feet were bound with thick twine rope.  Damn it.  Where was she?  Who hit her?  What did he hit her with?  When she got her hands on him, she'd kick his fucking ass.  She took in her surroundings and realized that she was in the back of a van.  The front of it was blocked off, so she wasn't sure who was driving the fucking thing, but she didn't doubt it was one of the fucking goons.  _I can't believe Donovan was right about that little prick fucker_.  The mole had been Graham all along.  She didn't understand why he took so long to show his face.  Gritting her teeth and scooting her body to a good spot, she raised her legs as high as she could.  Without a thought as to how hard the wall was, she brought her legs up and out, slamming into it with all her strength.  She felt the jarring sensation starting from her feet all the way up to her head.  It hurt like hell, but she did it again, and then again.  She wouldn't stop until someone fucking looked at her.  She felt the van stop abruptly.  

The van door slid open and the interior was suddenly bathed with bright sunlight.  She shielded her eyes against the intrusion and watched as a man climbed in with her.  He slammed the doors behind him.  When her eyes adjusted to the darkness again, she realized that she was staring at David fucking Graham.  He snatched the gag out of her mouth.  She didn't have her feet or her hands.  All she had was her mouth and teeth.  How much damage could she do to him?  He said nothing to her at first, but he was quite tempted to smack her again.  The side of her face was reddening and would likely bruise by morning.  Perhaps she would enjoy getting another upper cut to that area?  It wasn't often he had her at a disadvantage.  He smiled a little as she snarled up at him.  If her hands and feet were loose, she might get away with killing him.  Yet, it wasn't quite time for her to die, so he had to resist the urge to fight with her.  

"Come on, J.E., did you think we'd keep you around Donovan very long?  You're going to stay with me for a few days until we make our little shipment and then you're going to call in your lover.  I'll kill you both to settle a score for family."

She looked up at him, her snarl never leaving her face.  "Family?  What the fuck are you talking about?"

He drew close to her, cupping her face painfully in his hand.  It hurt like fuck, but there was no way she would cry out and give him the satisfaction.  "Tore Raynor?  Have you ever heard of him?  I'm sure you have, haven't you, _jomfru_ [virgin]?  He told me about you and your CIA days.  He also spoke about the unfortunate death of your son.  I'm not David Graham.  I'm Onde Raynor, Tore's cousin.  I've always done work for him, but when I heard what you did, I jumped at the chance to get to you this way.  You ruined his life and now I am set to ruin yours.  Don't worry, your lover will join you and your son in death soon enough.  Shut up, don't speak, because my trigger finger is itchy."

She spat in his face.  "Fuck you."

*  *  *

It was a quiet day on the harbor.  Jim and Cal were out fishing.  It was actually colder than a well digger's ass, but they were bored and thought they'd fish around for something interesting.  Jim had a taste for fresh fish.  Cal didn't give a shit either way.  Going fishing was just an excuse to get away from the nagging wife for a few hours.  Jim reached over for a fresh beer as Cal grumbled incoherently.  He swore off suds a few weeks ago [another _bright_ idea supplied by the nagging wife] and he was aching for a taste of the pale ale.  Oh well.  Hopefully, he'd grab a fish or three and have something to take to the house other than a booming headache.  Jim cast his line and watched it tick away.  It hit the water yards away with a loud _woosh_ and he kicked back and waited for the bite.  Almost immediately, he felt a hard tug.  _Hot damn_.  He had caught a big one from the way his pole was bending.  It took both Jim and Cal to hold the pole to reel the big fucker in.  What the hell had he caught?  Jaws?  They pulled and tugged, tugged and pulled.  What they were expecting to pop up to the surface wasn't what they saw.  Dear Jesus, a body!

Both Jim and Cal had puked about nine dozen times since the Chicago cops had arrived; they were literally crawling all over the place.  The man was stripped naked, his throat slashed.  He was fair skinned with blond hair and green eyes.  How in the world did this poor fuck end up in the harbor?  Cal and Jim were so choked up that they didn't see the small tattoo below the man's left nipple.  It was simple, only consisting of two initials:  "DG."  

*  *  *

It had been a good three hours since Donovan had last heard from Pax.  He called the paper again and was then told that both she and David Graham were missing.  Goddamn David Graham.  He was the fucking double agent.  How the hell could they not find something in his record?  Donovan stood behind Cody and had him check Graham's background nine dozen times.  _Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  Jesus.  Where the fuck are you, Pax?_  As Donovan stood behind Cody contemplating his next move, he didn't know why the idea had eluded him.

"Fuck," he growled suddenly.  "Can you pull up a photo?"

A few moments later, Donovan was staring at the true face of David Graham.  Without bothering to bark an order to Cody, he ran upstairs and began calling various police precincts around the city.  He was certain that the real David Graham had met a swift demise.  The next question was, who the hell was the other man?  The thought of Graham not being Graham was disturbing.  The idea that the true David Graham was dead was horrifying.  However, the thought of Pax being in the hands of someone else was terrifying.  

*  *  *

After Raynor wiped the spittle off his face, he was completely tempted to strangle her.  Yet, he wanted to wait to exact revenge.  He wanted to bring Donovan as much pain as she had brought to Ingrid and her sons.  He sat back out of her way so he she wouldn't spit on him again.  He smiled a little when he gazed at her snarling face.  There were dozens of ways to kill a person and he had used more than his fair share of them.  Jonella Paxton was special.  He would finish her off slowly, just as his cousin had wanted.  What was it that Donovan liked about her?  Was it her hair?  Perhaps he would peel her scalp right off her head and send it to her lover before he met his own demise.  Would he enjoy that gift?  What else?  Perhaps he would gouge out her eyes and send them along at the same time.  Interesting.  His smile grew wider.  The thoughts swirling in his mind comforted him.  Apparently, Donovan thought the world of this bitch.  He had given her an expensive ring.  Hmmm.  That gave him another idea.  Perhaps he could stuff the rings onto her tongue as yet another souvenir of his lost love.  

The van stopped again and the sudden movement jarred Pax's body for the second time.  As soon as it stopped, Raynor bolted out the back door and shouted a command in Norwegian:  _Hjelp med henne; hun er en vill.  _[Help with her; she's a wild one]  Pax watched as Raynor's helper came to assist him.  She groaned when she recognized Sekher.  She would have to deal with both henchmen.  Jesus.  There was little she could do tied up like she was.  She couldn't spit them too death.  As Raynor grabbed her feet, he began to pull her toward him.  She fought against them, cursing and spitting with everything in her.  As soon as they neared the door with her, Sekher grabbed hold of her bound hands.  They looked all around them for witnesses.  The warehouse was relatively secluded, but if someone happened upon them, he/she would be shot on sight.  They had difficulty carrying her because she wasn't cooperating.  Raynor was damn close to knocking her unconscious, but she had to be awake when he made the call.  If not, Donovan might not believe that he had his girlfriend.

Pax looked all around her as they made the journey from the van to the warehouse.  She was remembering everything, from the landscape to the smell to the dark gray building looming ahead of her.  She also studied the nondescript white van with tag number UGL031.  She wanted to memorize it all.  If she didn't, she might not have anything to tell.  _Tell who?  Who do you think is going to come to your rescue, you fucking idiot?  Not Donovan, that's for damn sure.  He doesn't even know you're gone.  For all he knows, you fucking took off again_.  The two men carried her into the dark building and set her body down onto an uncomfortable wooden chair.  Until her eyes adjusted to the dark, she wouldn't see anything around her.  She would have to wait it out.

"_Behold Deres øyne på henne. Jeg lager et rop_," Raynor ordered.  ["Keep your eyes on her.  I must make a call."]  He went outside and walked a few steps forward.  If he was any closer to the warehouse, his phone might pick up the generator at the back of it, and give away her location.  It wasn't time for that.  Donovan hadn't received his gifts yet.  He dialed a number and waited patiently.  It was Donovan's work cell number.  Not many people had it, but Raynor did.  He listened to the brusque greeting, "Donovan," before he smiled widely, broadly.  "Nice to speak to you again, Agent Donovan.  Recognize my voice?"

On the other end, Donovan closed his eyes for a moment and clenched his teeth together.  "What the fuck have you done with Agent Paxton?"

Raynor laughed a little.  How Donovan had enjoyed playing his game with Tore.  He would enjoy returning the favor.  "Agent Paxton?  How so very formal, Agent Donovan.  Do you call all your lovers such formal names?  Listen to me and listen carefully.  Your girlfriend, fiancée, fuck buddy, or whatever, is my captive.  For now, she's alive, but I could change that quickly, you know."

"Who are you _really_," Donovan demanded.  "How can I give you want you want if you have made no demands."

"In due time, Agent Donovan, in due time.  You and your _elsker_ [lover] destroyed my cousin's life.  His name was Tore Raynor and I'm certain you remember him well.  After all, it wasn't that long ago, was it?  If you give us two days to get our shipment out, I'll return your _elsker_ to you.  If you wait, I'll send you pieces from time to time, beginning with her scalp."

Donovan clenched his jaws together and held back the curses that threatened to spill out of him.  He had to remain calm.  Men like this fed off panic.  "How do I know to trust you with this bargain?  How do I know you have Agent Paxton with you?  How do I know she isn't dead already?"

Raynor walked toward the door of the warehouse and kicked it open.  "_Dra hennes hår!_" ["Pull her hair!"]

Pax's scream came loud and clear over the line.  He clenched his fist to go along with his jaw.  It would have been fairly easy for him to lose his mind, to let go, but he didn't.  He held onto his mental faculties and waited until the scream died down.  In the background, he heard a faraway whining, and the noise imprinted on his brain.  He might need it for later.  "_Enough_," Donovan shouted.  "If I let your shipment go through, will you release her?"

"I won't answer that," Raynor said.  "But if you don't, her scalp will be in the mail to you tomorrow."  He hung up in Donovan's ear.

Donovan snapped his phone closed and bolted downstairs.  "They have Pax and we have to find her.  I heard some type of high-pitched whine in the background.  It sounded like a generator."  He glanced at Cody.  "What can we do with that?"

"Not much, Boss, but I can try."

*  *  *

Cautiously, Pax watched the two men exchanging conversation in Norwegian.  She didn't understand much of it.  She picked up a word here and there.  From what she could recall, it sounded as if they intended to leave.  She wasn't sure how long they would be gone.  By this time, her eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness and she had begun looking around.  She was afraid to move her head, because it might raise suspicion.  

Both men turned to look at Pax.  She watched as Raynor approached her.  "We'll be back to you shortly, Agent Paxton.  Do try to be a good girl."

As soon as the two men were out of the warehouse, Pax began shifting her head from side to side.  At first, she saw nothing in the room.  This had obviously been a place where the gang had once stockpiled something.  There was tons of floor space.  Feeling trapped, she worked her way out of the chair until her body hit the concrete floor with a solid _THUD_.  She couldn't see the other side of the room without dragging herself down.  What she saw in the corner of the room nearly made her cry.  It was a phone, albeit, an old looking rotary, but it was a phone all the same.  Had the fuckers been too stupid to notice?  Yet, there was always the chance that the phone wouldn't work.  She had to take a chance.  Painfully, inch-by-inch, she scooted her body along the floor, feeling the friction it created against her clothing.  She had to know.  Pax scooted and pushed, rubbing herself raw in places from where loose sand had bitten into her flesh.  She came upon the phone, saw the cord sticking out the back of it, and jerked on it.  It didn't come loose.  Thank God for that.

Pax yanked on the cord, pulling the phone down onto the floor.  It made an audible _CLANG_.  The noise reverberated in the room ten times louder than it was supposed to, and she laid still, listening for the two men.  She held her breath and waited for them to run through the door.  When they didn't, she let out a deep breath.  The receiver had fallen off the phone.  Feeling like an idiot for taking an incredible chance, she leaned down as far as she could.  When she heard the steady _wah wah wah_, she did cry a little.  Oh God.  Thank God.  She worked herself clumsily to the side, her legs straining and aching.  When she found that she could pick up the receiver, she thanked the crazy fucks for tying her hands criss cross fashion.  She dropped it down noisily, hanging it up.  She knocked it off the hook again and hit zero.

The phone rang and Donovan swooped over to get it.  "Donovan."

"Frank?"

Jesus.  It was Pax.  "Jonella?  Where are you?"  Her voice sounded strained and a little far away.

"No time to speak.  Get your computer guy to trace the call.  I'm not sure how long I'll be alone."  She said nothing else.  She left the phone off the hook and pushed it far back into the shadows.

Donovan listened as Pax grunted and groaned, scooting her way back to the chair.  "Start the trace," Donovan barked.

"Already on it, Boss."

"Thank you, Cody."

They waited several painstaking moments, continuing to listen to Pax moving around.  "Boss, got it."

When Raynor and Sekher returned, they saw Pax sprawled out on the floor.  "Can't get very far all tied up, can you," Raynor asked with a smile.  He dragged her up and slammed her down in the chair again.  "Such hatred on your face, Agent Paxton.  I'm only honoring my family.  What was your motivation?"

"My son, you bastard," she said through clenched teeth.  "Did your beloved cousin tell you how he died?  Did he tell you how he threw my son into oncoming traffic to save his ass?  Just fucking kill me now.  I know that's what you're going to do." 

"_I_ decide when you die, not you."

It took no longer than forty-five minutes for the team to find the warehouse.  They parked a good mile or so away and had contacted enough backup to lead the men away once they were captured.  As they approached, Donovan instructed them to spread out.  They'd heard from Cody a few moments ago and there didn't appear to be any type of surveillance here.  They slowly spread out around the building, looking for a weakness and an entrance.  They simply couldn't burst in with guns blazing.  They had no idea how many men were inside.  

"Any movement, Cody," Donovan asked as he ducked behind an industrial size dumpster.

"Nope.  None.  I don't think it's like Literville, Boss." 

Donovan moved away slowly, keeping watch and listening.  "Alex?  Jake?"

"Nothing," both agents echoed.

Donovan moved on and around the warehouse.  There were no low windows.  Gaining entrance without much fanfare wouldn't be easy.  By the time Donovan made it around the back, his eyes spied a ladder.  It appeared old and rusty.  When he reached out and grabbed it, it seemed strong enough to hold him.  He looked straight up and saw a small window toward the roof.  There was another floor or a loft.  "I found a ladder," Donovan said.  "I'm climbing up to check it out.  I have no idea where it's going to lead."  Steadily, he climbed up just to the edge of the window.  He knew if he were spotted, Pax would lose her life.  He argued with himself for three minutes or more, before he decided it was now or never.  Steeling himself, he looked into the window and spotted a loft.  He saw nothing.  He rose up further and spied three figures several feet below.  He looked down quickly.  "I see them."

"Can we gain entrance," Jake asked.

"I'll have to break the window, but by that time, Pax will be dead."  Jesus.  What the hell was he going to do?  He looked up and over again.  "Movement inside.  I think they might be coming outside.  Both of you go around to the side.  If I see them moving toward the door, I'll let you know.  If they come out, jump them."  He watched carefully as they moved closer to the door.  "_Move_," he commanded.

As Raynor and Sekher exited the warehouse, two people jumped them.  Donovan wasted no time smashing out the window.  His body barely fit through it.  He stepped out onto a creaky loft and searched for a ladder.  "Jonella," he called down.  "Are you all right?"

She looked up toward the voice.  "It's about fucking time," she grumbled.  "Get me out of these fucking ropes.  Your super agents are getting all the glory."

He smiled a little.  She was fine.  He stepped carefully over to the ladder and swung down and around to it.  It took him all of three seconds to get down to the bottom floor.  He kneeled before her and began working on the ropes tied around her ankles.

"You're down on bended knee," she said with a sarcastic little smile.

"Shut up.  You want out of the ropes or not," he asked looking up at her.

"I do, just hurry the fuck up."  She looked down at him.  "Frank?  Will you be my perpetual fiancé?"

He looked up at her again, gazing at her crazily.  "Don't we already have that worked out?"

He'd finished with the ropes on her ankles and began working on her wrists.  "Yeah, I suppose we do, but I thought I'd ask anyway.  Things kinda run through a girl's mind when she's kidnapped and threatened with death.  So, I thought 'what the hell.'"

Donovan stopped what he was doing to look at her again.  "The answer is yes.  Now stop wiggling around or I'll never free you."   

**____________________**

**To be continued…**


	13. Last Looks and A June Wedding

LAST LOOKS & A JUNE WEDDING

Donovan smiled down at Pax.  She was wrapped up in the covers and had put her pillow over her head.  She moaned and groaned as her ignorant ass lover pushed and prodded her out of bed.  This was her damn vacation for Pete's sake and she deserved to sleep late.  Damn prick.  Days like these made her wonder why she loved his ass at all.  When his prodding and poking failed, he climbed onto the bed, halfway settling his body over hers.  Jesus, he weighed a ton!  He took hold of the pillow and drew it away from her head.  She covered her face with her arms and moaned again.  Hell no.  He would have to pick her up and throw her in the shower.  Of course, he wasn't adverse to that idea.  He'd done it a thousand times before, hadn't he?  It was one idea she seemed to like a lot, too.  Hmmm.  Maybe she should roll over and let him pick her up.  

"Why do you care if I'm awake," she groaned.  "You don't need me to be around you all damn day, do you?"

"Yes, Jonella," he said as he kissed her head.  "I have a few rare days off and I'd like to spend them out of this damn apartment.  Come on; get out of bed.  I promised Stasia I'd take her to the park, and we both want you to come along."

It had been a couple of months since Pax moved in with Donovan and she was still on shaky terms with his daughter.  Their tentative relationship had grown a little better and it didn't seem to freak Pax out to hold her or even give her a hug without first being asked.  The kid was nothing like her mother, praise Jesus, and Pax was okay with that.  It was difficult, but getting easier by the day.  She had even begun to call Pax something different than 'Spoon Lady.'  She couldn't quite say Jonella yet, but she managed something that made a nodding acquaintance to 'Donnie.'  _Gawd, yet one more fucking nickname to add to the list_.  Of course, Donovan's ex still didn't quite know how to react to the relationship or the engagement.  The first time she saw the ring on Pax's finger, she nearly died.  Pax watched as her eyes bugged out in shock.  _Uh huh.  See.  Even foul mouth dragons can get a man, princess.  Bite me._  She tried to keep her childish thoughts at bay, but sometimes, it was difficult.  She'd always have a complex when it came to Remy Ellis.

"Okay, okay, you asshole.  Leave me alone and I'll get up, I promise," she said quietly.

Pax slumped on the metal bench.  Jesus she was tired.  She was getting too damn old to chase around a little child.  Stasia Donovan's legs might be short, but she could flat out run.  She left her to Donovan.  If she didn't stop and take a breath, she'd fall over dead from a coronary.  Jesus.  Just two months out of the CIA, and her body had already gone to pot.  She looked up when Donovan approached with Stasia running at the helm.  Remembering what happened to her before, Stasia slowed down and approached the bench at a slightly less charging pace.  

"Whew.  I need a gallon of water," Pax said.

Donovan smiled.  "You okay?"

"Maybe in a few days, I'll be okay."  She ran her hand through Stasia's golden locks.  "Blondie, you can really run."

She nodded happily, agreeing that she could, indeed run.  "Donnie no run?"

Pax shook her head.  "Nope.  Donnie no run, not today, tomorrow, or the next day."  She looked up at Donovan.  "I can see where she gets her stamina," she said with a grin.

He returned her smile.  "Yes.  Definitely a Donovan trait," he said with a lifted eyebrow.  He glanced down at his watch.  "Well, kiddo," he said as he lifted Stasia into his arms.  "Your mother is picking you up in about an hour.  I think we should go."

"Donnie carry Staddie," she asked.

"If her arms can hold out," Pax said.  "Come on, Blondie."

When they arrived back at the apartment, Donovan carried Stasia into her room to gather her things while Pax waited quietly in the living room.  She found herself chewing on her nails.  Ugh.  She stopped what she was doing.  It was such a bad habit and she knew she must break it.  She heard a knock on the door and she sighed a little.  Remy was behind it, she didn't need to open it to see.  She stood, approached the door, and swung it open.  Remy eyed Pax solemnly, waiting for her to get out of the way.  Pax moved back, allowing Remy to enter and Pax closed the door behind her.  _Wow.  What a switch.  This used to be __her __place and now it's mine_.  Well…sort of.  They had talked about moving, getting a place that could really and truly be theirs and no one else's.  When Pax turned around, Remy stood staring at her.

"Frank should have the kid ready in a few minutes," Pax said.

Remy nodded.  "Good.  Thanks."  She stared at Pax for a few moments before saying, "There's something I want to say to you."

Pax rolled her eyes.  _Here it goes_.  Remy had yet to say anything about the living arrangements or the engagement ring.  She was well aware of both, but she hadn't touched it, and probably didn't want to.  She sighed a little and said, "Okay, let it out."

"I've made it no secret that I still love him," she began.  "He knows and you know.  I'm going to be watching and waiting in the shadows.  If you mess up once, I won't hesitate to be right back in.  We have a bond, a connection with our child, and that will never go away.  Watch what you do, because I'll have my eyes and ears open.  I just wanted you to understand that."

"You don't have to worry one ounce that I'm going to mess up, because I'm not.  I love him, too, and at this moment, on this day, he is mine.  I am a possessive bitch, so I'd suggest that as soon as you have your daughter, you get your ass out of my face once and for all.  You blew it, and that's something I don't intend to do."  Pax wanted to say more, but she hesitated.  She could hear Donovan bringing Stasia into the room.

With his daughter in his arms [she had squealed with delight at the sight of her mother], he glanced at Remy and then at Pax.  He noticed the look passing between them and he'd seen it many times when they were together.  Basically, they were having some type of turf war, but the victor wouldn't change.  As he handed Stasia over to Remy, he stood back with his arms crossed.  For five minutes or more, he lamented about his lack of taking so damn long to make up his mind.  Much of this could have been avoided if he had only spoken up sooner.  Of course, he didn't know things were going to change so abruptly between he and Pax.  He said nothing.  He approached his daughter and gave her one more gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Donnie kiss Staddie bye bye," Stasia asked as soon as Donovan pulled away.

Pax sighed a little.  Stasia had never asked her for a kiss.  "Sure, Blondie, I can do that."  She approached the little girl and buffed her cheek a little.  Damn if she wasn't melting her heart a little.  "See you next time, okay?"

Stasia smiled.  "Okay, Donnie.  Bye bye."

As soon as Remy and Stasia were gone, Donovan approached Pax and wrapped his arms around her from behind.  "The ice is melting, Jonella.  I feel it inside you.  I've never wanted to push her on you, not after the hell you've experienced."

She laid her hands over his.  "It's okay, Frank," she said.  "You're not pushing.  It's weird, but it feels nice having a kid around once in a while."

"And what about you and my ex?"

Pax turned within his embrace and faced him.  "That might take some work.  She still loves you, you know, and I think she believes I'm beneath you or some shit.  I'm fine with her, though.  If she stays in one corner, I'll stay in mine."

He kissed her forehead and then stepped back as if he were assessing the room.  "You know, I think we _should_ move."

"I want to," she said, "I really do.  I don't feel comfortable in this place.  She seems to be all over it, you know?  Does that sound stupid?"

He shook his head.  "No, it doesn't.  I understand.  We can start looking tomorrow."

*  *  *

Months later, June arrived and the weather was nice and warm.  There wasn't a cloud in the sky.  Of course, why would a cloud dare ruin such a wonderful day?  Donovan looked all around him, incredulous at the amount of people in attendance.  Most of them were dressed in light summer outfits.  The big event wasn't necessarily formal.  Neither of them had actually wanted the affair to be black tie.  He glanced at his little girl.  She was so cute in her little pink sundress with matching barrettes.  She was amazed at the crowd herself and looked around at them with big, wondrous eyes.  She had probably never seen so many people in one place in her life.  Stasia kept making eye contact with her father to ensure that he hadn't disappeared.  She also began to look around for her "Donnie."  She couldn't see her anywhere and scanned the crowd before fixing her eyes on her father again.  Donovan was pleased with the progression in the relationship between Pax and Stasia.  Pax had finally grown a bit more at ease with Stasia and had begun to share her heart with her.  Stasia simply found another person willing to love her, and she latched on for all she was worth.

At the thought of Pax, he recalled that they had finally found a place that was completely theirs.  It was roomy and rattling with large windows and loft style bedrooms.  When Donovan saw the place, he couldn't help but comment that he'd seen enough lofts to last a lifetime.  Pax had elbowed him in the stomach and flat out demanded they shell out a security deposit.  Of course, Donovan loved the place as much as she.  But would he admit that right away?  Hell no.  In love he was.  Whipped he was not.  However, after that first night [spent making love, surprise surprise], he had to tell her he loved it.  The only disadvantage he found was the fact that there wasn't exactly a door for Stasia's bedroom.  It would be tricky, but they thought they could behave themselves until an alternative was found.  

Donovan looked up as Pax approached.  He had never seen her so beautiful.  Her dress was a pale shade of blue and it flowed down to a full skirt.  She had managed to tame her wild hair and get it into a relatively neat style.  Although he liked it better down, she was lovely with it upswept as well.  That was okay.  Later, he could take it down.  As if on cue, soft music began to play and Pax took his hand.  Donovan looked at Stasia for the briefest of moments.  She was clapping her little hands while she watched two people she loved very much making their progression down the red carpet toward their new lives together.

FINIS!  Is it is or is it ain't who we think it be?

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A/N:  Many thanks to those who have read and reviewed here and at the FLMB.  Dawn369, Dawn2323, Julianna, Cara, Dreamy, Deana, Lady T, Nicky, Cindy, Serena, and Serena1221, I owe you all some extra thanks!!!!  You have kindly and consistently read my work and offered feedback.  You guys are great.  If I forgot anyone, I'm sorry, but as the body ages, so does the mind!  Hahahahaha!  Special thanks to Dreamy for her helpful suggestions whenever I got stuck!


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